#so I literally have no experience in romance HELP | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

husbandhoshi · 9 months

Text

title: eat. play. love.

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 19.4k

summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.

Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.

None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"

At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.

"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"

Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.

"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."

"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."

You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.

It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.

There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"

"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.

URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.

As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.

I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.

It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.

"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.

Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.

"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."

How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.

"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."

You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.

Looking forward to talking with the two of you.

Wait—two?

Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.

CC: Choi Seungcheol.

"Choi Seungcheol?!"

Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.

Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.

"I—he," you stammer.

Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.

"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."

You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.

"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."

Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.

"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"

You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.

"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."

Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.

The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.

It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.

"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."

The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.

Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.

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The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.

Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.

"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.

You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)

For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."

You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.

He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.

"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."

At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.

"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."

He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.

"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."

That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.

Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.

"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."

"They don't have a kids menu, you know."

"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.

"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"

You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.

Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.

"You know what?"

His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.

"What?"

"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."

The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.

"I'd rather starve."

"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."

you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.

He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.

Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.

The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.

He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.

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"You'll never guess what I have."

"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.

Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."

"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"

"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"

"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"

"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."

He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.

"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."

"And a seat at Momofuku."

"And that."

You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.

There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.

"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."

"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.

"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."

You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.

And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.

You hide behind your computer screen.

"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"

"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."

You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.

It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.

Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.

"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.

Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.

But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).

No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.

Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?

The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.

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Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.

Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.

And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.

The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).

Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.

Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."

Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.

"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.

The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.

This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.

Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.

You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.

In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.

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Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.

You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.

That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.

This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.

You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.

That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.

"Seungcheol?"

He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.

"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."

Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.

"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.

"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."

"Who said I was pretending?"

No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.

Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)

"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."

"I never said that."

You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.

The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.

"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."

Touché, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?

"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.

"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."

"What do you think we're doing right now?"

"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.

"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.

"No, you do not get to make this about me."

Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.

How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.

"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"

"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.

"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."

Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.

"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."

"I'm no quitter."

Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.

Definitely not that one.

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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."

"Why, so you can steal my job?"

"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."

You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.

You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.

"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.

"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"

You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.

"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."

In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.

"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."

He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.

"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."

He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.

"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."

"So you're admitting this is a date?"

"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."

"Well, pity looks good on you."

And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."

"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."

Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.

"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."

"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."

Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.

You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.

"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."

You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).

You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.

You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.

"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."

It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.

"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.

"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"

"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"

You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.

"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"

If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.

"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."

"Running away?"

"Bored," you lie.

He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.

"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.

"Unfortunate."

"How do you think I feel?"

The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.

It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.

"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."

"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."

Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.

"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"

You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.

"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."

And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.

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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."

It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."

"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."

"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."

"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"

"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."

Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.

"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.

You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.

"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.

"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"

"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."

"Field trip?"

Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.

"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."

Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.

"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"

"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."

Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.

You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.

"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."

Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.

"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."

"N-not both ways?" you croak.

"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."

"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."

Whatever.

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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.

Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.

You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.

For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.

"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.

"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.

Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.

"But, thank you."

"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."

The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.

"I'm retracting my thank you."

"I'm devastated. Really."

You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.

It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.

"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"

The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.

"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."

"Yeah, but why?"

Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.

"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."

Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.

"Come on, he can't like her that much."

"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."

"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."

You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.

"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."

Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.

"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."

"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one did. I'm just being honest."

You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.

"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."

"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.

You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.

But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.

Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.

"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."

"I wouldn't say nothing."

He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.

Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.

Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.

"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"

You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.

Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.

These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.

"You in a rush?"

"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."

"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."

That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little.

That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.

"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.

"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."

You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.

Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.

"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.

It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.

You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.

"Stop that."

"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"

A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.

"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."

"Is it working?"

You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.

"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."

"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."

There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.

He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.

However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.

"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"

This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.

For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.

Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.

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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.

"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."

Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.

"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.

"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.

"At least I'm not a slave to my career."

"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.

"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"

"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.

"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"

"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."

You almost choke on a blueberry.

"Absolutely not."

You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.

The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.

"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"

And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.

You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.

Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.

You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.

You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).

Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.

"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.

"I'm running out of options."

"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"

You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).

Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.

"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."

Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.

You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.

The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.

The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.

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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.

Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.

That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.

You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.

He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.

"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"

"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.

"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.

"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."

"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."

"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."

"Lucky you."

The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.

Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.

You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.

The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).

It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.

Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.

He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.

"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."

"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.

Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.

It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.

"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."

You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.

"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.

A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.

The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.

You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.

You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.

You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.

Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.

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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.

It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.

The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.

In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.

So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.

All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.

Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.

The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.

The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.

Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.

Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.

"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.

You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.

You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.

She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.

Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.

The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.

To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.

One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.

You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.

No, you're definitely going to cry.

Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.

"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"

You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.

"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."

You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.

But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.

Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.

Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.

You count the seconds till he walks away.

One. Two. Three.

Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.

"Hey, you ok?"

Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.

And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.

You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.

"Whoa," he breathes.

Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.

"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.

You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.

Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.

Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.

You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.

Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.

"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."

You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.

The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.

"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.

Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.

All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.

Just him, and you decide you like this version best.

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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.

There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.

A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.

Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.

Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.

You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.

And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.

You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).

And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)

Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.

8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.

Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.

You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.

You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.

But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.

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"Here. Drink."

You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.

But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.

Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.

"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.

"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."

"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.

Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.

You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.

"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."

"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."

Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.

"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."

Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.

"Thanks…?"

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."

"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"

"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."

"You're literally the definition of easy."

"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."

"This is not a date. Dream on."

"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."

"It wasn't."

"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"

"Chicago."

"Same difference."

Your conversation continues as such.

Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?

You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.

You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.

You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)

After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.

It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.

First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.

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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.

He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.

"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.

"Hi."

The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.

And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.

The elevator dings.

Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.

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You have three reasons to get drunk.

1. It's Friday.

2. You finished your article.

3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.

(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)

After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.

You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.

So you get drunk.

Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.

"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"

"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.

"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"

"You got that right."

Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.

"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.

"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"

"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.

"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.

The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?

Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.

"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."

"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."

"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.

You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.

How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!

You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.

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It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.

You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.

"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."

"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."

Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.

"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.

"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."

It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.

"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."

"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"

"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"

He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.

"Just dates. Nothing serious."

You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.

"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."

You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.

"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."

"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."

"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."

"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.

Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.

The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.

You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.

You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.

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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.

You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.

"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.

"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."

"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.

"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."

"Or if they're trying to poison you."

"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.

"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."

You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.

"Holy shit. You live like this?"

"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"

"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.

At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.

You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.

"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.

You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.

"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."

"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."

Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."

you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.

There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.

It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.

"What, too many dates to cover?"

He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."

Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.

"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."

"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."

His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.

You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.

"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."

The table stops rocking.

"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.

Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."

"You asked."

"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."

After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.

"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"

"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."

There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."

"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"

There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.

"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Wh—"

he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.

"Get. Out."

It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.

"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."

it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.

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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.

If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.

That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.

Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.

You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.

Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.

You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.

He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.

It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.

You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.

The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.

You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?

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Monday feels tilted.

There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.

You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.

"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.

He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.

You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.

"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.

Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.

Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.

All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.

You wonder what you'll be:

10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.

It's Not You, It's Them!

Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!

At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.

The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.

(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)

You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.

(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)

There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.

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Ask Samuel!

It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.

You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.

That's the only way he's beating you.

(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).

One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.

"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.

"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.

"Congrats."

"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.

"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."

For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.

"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."

"No need."

"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"

"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."

"What?!"

There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.

"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."

The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.

"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.

All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.

Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.

When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.

You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.

You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.

And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.

He gave up.

None of this should matter to you.

You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.

It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.

His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.

"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."

That does the trick.

"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.

"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What does it matter to you? You got the position."

"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."

Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.

Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.

"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."

The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.

"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."

Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.

"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."

"H-how?"

"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."

There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.

"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.

"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."

You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.

"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.

"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."

"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."

"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."

Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.

"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."

Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.

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"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"

Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.

"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."

You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.

He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."

Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.

You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.

After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.

But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.

He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)

Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.

"Afternoon, boss."

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.

He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.

"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.

"Friendly reminder we're at work."

"Everyone's at lunch, genius."

He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.

"You are the worst."

"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."

"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."

"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."

There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.

If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.

You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).

Eat, Play, Love: A Guide.

Maybe you'd put it through. Maybe.

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#mine #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups x you #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #scoups imagines

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sorryimananti-romantic · 7 months

Text

Sunrise

soldier!san x soldier!reader

military dilf/milf agents working in the special forces au

word count: ~29k

genres and warnings: mostly angst, sometimes fluffy, smut (mdni), violence warnings, past trauma, blood and weapons, basically its war but san makes it better <3

synopsis: you and san are majors in the special forces, having trained together after your sector was occupied. you both work as partners in your team now, surviving through hell together and having each other's back. you think the idea of romance while being in the military is stupid for a number of reasons, but san thinks otherwise and decides to prove his point, making you question your beliefs.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (we talked about ateez as military dilfs and this happened LOL)

“I’ve had enough of grown men acting like children,” you muttered to yourself, trying to find the scissors in the box of instruments, shuffling them loudly and not realising you were holding your breath until the patient in front of you helped by picking the scissors right out as if they had been right there the entire time time.

“What was that?”

You glared at the grown man you had referred to now having heard your complaint, a faint smirk crawling on his lips as if taunting you- and perhaps, he was. You were acting like a child too. You were feeling like a child ready to burst at him.

You said nothing, only cut the gauze and secured it around the wound you had just stitched. His eyes continued to bore holes into you and you continued to ignore it as you took the ointment and a cotton swab, applying it gently on his grazed cheekbone.

“You’re clenching your jaw a bit too hard right now, Major Seo. You don’t want to end up being unable to sleep because your jaw hurts… again.”

Referring to the time you hurt your jaw- the only time you lost your footing even in your own memory. It made it on your Top Embarrassing Moments list, and he was a part of every item on that list. And the fact that your squad wouldn’t let you live it down made it worse. After all, you had lost your footing and bumped into a shelf because Major Choi caught your eye when he was taking off his jacket.

Major Choi San. Your squad member but probably your worst enemy too.

“At least I didn’t cut my arm trying to run after a cat, Major Choi.”

“The cat might have stepped on a landmine-”

“The cats are not that dumb,” you put a bandage on his cheekbone and intentionally pressed it harder than you had to, making sure this jab hurt with the one you had made verbally- referring to the time he almost stepped on a landmine after drinking. He had been grounded for weeks after and you had enjoyed every bit of peace that followed. “We literally have a mission in two days, Major.”

“Ah, don’t tell me you care,” Major Choi scoffed out loud and you couldn’t help but glance around you, noticing very well how the other nurses were eyeing the two of you while they treated their patients. You understood them but at the same time, you didn’t. You understood that most of them found him intimidating and for all the right reasons. You didn’t (though that was questionable too) because you two had trained together since the very beginning.

So, why did Major Choi refuse to be treated by anyone else other than you? Was it simply to get on your nerves? In that case, he should know he was already doing a good enough job. Or was it because you two were the only ones who were still here, still alive, after spending almost a decade on the field together? Or maybe it was because of that one time you both shared a traumatic experience-

You didn’t care enough, you told yourself.

“Of course I care,” you began, wrapping up the sprawled instruments on the trolley. “I will have to do twice the amount of work without you. And my risk of dying increases by a solid 14 percent. Of course I’d rather have you on the team.”

Major Choi rolled his eyes, getting up and wearing his jacket again, watching you close the medical kits and roll the trolley to a corner, shaking his head in amusement when you flipped a finger at him and went ahead to report him. He followed right behind you, wondering how to bait you into not reporting to their leader at all.

“Major Seo,” he called but you ignored him, knowing that ‘pleading’ tone very well. “Major Seo… Pretty.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you felt a sharp pain go through your skull. He was always making something up with your last name ‘Seo’, adding adjectives so he could call you something like ‘so angry’ or ‘so bossy’. You hated it and it had been a mistake to react to it in the beginning because he never let it go again.

“Say something like that again and you’ll have me presenting an exaggerated report. You won’t be seeing sunlight for a while, Major.”

“So feisty,” he shook his head and you stopped, turning to glare at him and he realised then, shaking his head furiously. “I didn’t mean it like that. Promise.”

You sighed, tuning out his rambling and knocking at the squad leader’s door. When you heard the familiar clearing of his throat as an answer, you stepped inside and the two of you saluted in synchronisation until the man nodded.

“Sergeant Kim, reporting to you from Squad 8,” you called and the sergeant scoffed.

“Major Choi got in trouble again?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Major Choi decided to speak for himself. “I was… saving a cat from a landmine.”

“How many times have I told you to leave the cats alone, Major?”

“17 times as of now, Sergeant!” Major Choi saluted and you stifled a smile. The Sergeant asked you to report the damage and you did- it wasn’t too bad but if you had to go on the mission tomorrow instead of the day after like planned, he wouldn’t be able to join.

“If we have to go to the field tomorrow,” Sergeant Kim concluded, “You’ll stay back.”

“But, Sergeant-”

“And we better have clean rooms and a fresh meal when we get back,” Sergeant Kim glared at him. “If we go the day after… then you can join.”

You felt the Major shift from one foot to another and were reminded of the boy he used to be- when he was still Choi San and not Major Choi- suddenly feeling nostalgic. Some habits never changed. The Major cleared his throat and saluted in answer and you followed, leaving to go back to your rooms.

You both walked in silence as you approached the dorms and just as you were about to part ways, you heard Major Choi clear his throat and you spared a glance.

“I won’t be staying back, even if we have to go tomorrow,” his gaze was steel. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“I don’t want to risk bringing an injured squad member who could be a liability to the rest of us. You know that.”

The Major stifled a groan but before he could insist, you continued. “Do you remember the last time we took an injured member with us?”

His eyes flashed. “This is only a cut to my arm. It’s not something that will affect our mission.”

“Your aim could be affected. Whatever, there’s no point arguing with you,” you groaned, tired and ready to hit the bed and knock yourself out. “You’ll stay behind if we’re going tomorrow, end of the discussion.”

“We’ll see,” he said and you knew he meant that there was no way he wouldn’t join. You hoped Sergeant Kim, at least, wouldn’t give in to him tomorrow. You really could not lose another squad member just because they insisted on joining despite being injured, no matter how small the injury might be.

So you did the only thing you could do- pray you wouldn’t have to go to the field tomorrow. But you knew that as a Major in the Special Forces, you always had to expect the worst. You did not have the luxury of hoping for a miracle. All you could do was pray and ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut which was answer enough.

And it was not like your prayers were answered because as you woke up at the crack of dawn, you noticed that it wasn’t as noisy as it used to be. Already knowing what was ahead, you wore your black and grey uniform and got ready, taking a few deep breaths in the room before straightening and stepping outside.

It was awfully empty too- none of the others from your squad or other squads exiting their rooms with puffy eyes or tired figures. When you heard the sound of a door opening, you turned to see your own squad member, Major Yu, looking as confused as you.

“Where are the others?” She asked.

“Exactly what I’m wondering,” you frowned. “Did they perhaps dispatch Squad 6 last night?”

“Not when I was awake,” she wiped the sleep from her eyes. “Let’s go. We might have to prepare for the mission today, it seems.”

With a sinking heart, you both decided to go to the Sergeant’s office first and just as you had thought, the mission had taken an unexpected turn last night. The secret operation the other squads had been on for the past few days had been discovered and Squad 6 had been dispatched to help them, but they needed to change shifts now.

“It’s getting uglier- the enemy won’t let them go so easily,” Sergeant Kim said. “We’re carrying out our operation in 3 hours from now, so prepare for it. Make no mistakes- but first… eat breakfast. I don’t want any of you looking pale because you didn’t eat.”

Major Yu smiled at that and the two of you saluted, about to exit when you turned. “Major Choi San insists on joining the operation.”

“He’s ready to go,” the Sergeant shook his head and you gaped at him. “He got up quite early today. As if he knew.”

Indeed, you spotted him in the cafeteria gulping down his breakfast as if he was short on time when he looked as prepared as one could be, dressed in his gear and loaded with weapons. You rolled your eyes, taking your tray of food to sit at the table next to him.

“All this effort. Did you change your bandages?”

The Major stopped in the middle of stuffing his face with rice. “Uh… I thought I had to change it later?”

“You’re going to the field, you fool,” you couldn’t believe it. “What are you gonna do, ask me to change your bandage when we’re getting fired at from every direction?”

“Oh, but you’d do that for me, won’t you?” He teased and you pretended to throw up, Major Yu laughing at the two of you as she joined you. “Don’t worry. We can get the bandage changed now. I’ll undress for you-”

“And, there he is,” Major Yu sighed. “I really wonder what you’ve got against this poor girl, Major Choi. You should go to the medical ward- we have to prepare too.”

“Then the bandages can wait-”

“Ugh, okay, I’ll change them for you, we don’t want them infected,” you muttered, already feeling done for the day. He always had to be so stubborn. You simply did not have the time to entertain him. You had things to do- but first, you would change his bandages so he could get off your back and let you prepare in peace.

You had to admit- you were slightly amused to see him struggle unloading himself and taking off all the complicated belts and ropes before finally being able to take off his shirt so you could inspect his upper arm. You shook your head. “That’s what you get for being over-efficient. You could have waited until I woke up, but no. You had to be present before any of your squad members.”

“I knew you were not going to let me go, so I did what I had to.”

Even though working in the Special Forces had turned your heart to rock, it still fluttered whenever the man in front of you looked at you funny or said something like this. However, your face didn’t reveal any of it and you prayed he wasn’t observant enough to notice.

“Well, I can’t stop you now,” you sighed in relief to see he was healing up well. “Be careful not to rip your stitches. I’ll be carrying a kit so if you feel like something is wrong, you need to tell me before it gets worse, okay?”

“Yes, boss.”

“And stop being so casual with me,” you glared at him before taping a new bandage to his arm and securing it well this time.

“I literally called you ‘boss’,” Major Choi chuckled to himself. You poked your tongue in your cheek as you glared at him- or tried to, but his eyes curving when he laughed always put a smile on your own face. He noticed that and said, “You’re allowed to smile.”

“Whatever,” you chuckled. “Be careful out there, okay? We’re marching to Sector 1. It cannot get any more dangerous than that.”

“I know,” his tone grew grim and you knew you were both recalling the life-threatening situation you faced the last time you were there- about two years ago. “You’ll have my back, won’t you?”

“And you’ll have mine,” you said and he nodded. “Let’s all come back alive, okay?”

It was always like this between you two- especially after that incident a couple years ago. You two may tease each other to death and be out for each other like enemies but you trusted each other the most out of anyone else. Time and time again, you both proved what being a team meant. The Major got up and opened his mouth as if to say something but shook his head instead, and you resisted the urge to ask him to finish his thought, instead saying you’ll join him in the office after getting ready and went to prepare for the operation in your room.

It was a mechanical process now- gearing up in your uniform which was so black you would become one with the shadows, docking up on layers and ropes and packing your bag with all the necessities- a medical kit, some food rations, water, your radio and all the necessary equipment. Lastly, you hid weapons everywhere on yourself where you could, the only visible ones the guns around your belt and a sniper hanging by your shoulder.

You went to the office and found Major Kang and Major Choi Jongho already present, chatting with Major Yu. Your squad- and naturally, the rest started referring to Major Choi Jongho as ‘Major CJ’ which started as a joke first until it wasn’t anymore. You settled down near them and said hello, joining in the conversation- Major Yu detailing the events of the morning to them.

“So I genuinely thought someone had died, or worse, because it hasn’t been this silent around here since the time Major Han said she found Sergeant Kim attractive out loud,” Major Yu said and Major Kang burst into his trademark giggle that made everyone around him laugh. “So I found her looking as confused as me and she had that funny look on her face- you know the one she makes when she either has no idea what’s going on or when Major Choi says something weird-”

You rolled your eyes. Major Yu had to be the most laid back person in your squad and sometimes you wished she wasn’t so observant. “Whatever Major Choi does doesn’t affect me.”

“He literally makes you almost cry, but okay, we can pretend we don’t see that,” Major CJ said and the others grinned at you giving them the side-eye.

“Where’s he now, anyway?” You wondered. “He was up and ready so early that I’m wondering if he went to bed like that-”

“And of course you wonder how I go to bed,” Major Choi said, entering the room and having heard the last part, making you wonder how he always managed to appear at the worst possible timing. “I had to do what I had to.”

“Still, I think it’s too much,” Major Kang shook his head. “We don’t take injured people to the field. You know the rules.”

“But this mission requires my presence- everyone’s presence. We’re all going in, whether you guys like it or not.”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “If you become a liability, we’ll leave you on the field and return. At least my nurse duties will decrease by half.”

“And I’d have the room to myself!” Major Kang cheered and Major CJ grinned. Major Choi, however, was sulking deeper with every passing minute and Major Yu poked his elbow right where you had stitched it, making him scowl and you wondered if she did it on purpose.

“Ay, you know we wouldn’t do that to you,” she assured him. “But you have to admit, the thought of having one less person to write reports about is very tempting to me-”

“Please,” Major Choi groaned out loud and you silently laughed, knowing they were all trying to raise his spirits before the mission because he was the type to get very serious before going to the field.

A few moments later, Sergeant Kim and Major Han arrived in the office and all of you got up and saluted your leader before he settled down with you, now forming a little circle so he could look all of you in the eyes as he instructed you and shared the details.

“I’m happy to see all of you present and healthy,” Sergeant Kim glared at Major Choi who pretended to be interested in the very boring ceiling all of a sudden. “We’re leaving in exactly 30 minutes from now and we will be on standby at the border of Sector 1 before we go in to extract Squad 7. Squad 5 will take care of Squad 6 so if you come across anyone from Squad 6, you will take them with you but alert 5 before you take another step, is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” Everyone said in unison.

“Just like always, we’re splitting into teams- I’m leading with Delta and Sierra as Team 1,” Sergeant Kim referred to Major Kang and Major Yu who straightened and nodded. “Fox and Victor as Team 3, Charlie and Echo as Team 2.”

You being Echo and Charlie being Major Choi- you met eyes for a moment before nodding. Sergeant Kim continued, “If the two of you require assistance, you will call either Fox or Victor,” he referred to Major Han and Major CJ. “And if they cannot join you, then Delta or Sierra will. You’re at the heart of the operation, though, so be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” Major Choi’s grip on his rifle tightened- something that went unobserved by most but then again, you were familiar with every movement of his body.

“And lastly,” Sergeant Kim sighed- you all knew how much he hated delivering the final instruction which was- “If any of you is indisposed, you all know the rules. Our first priority is making sure the mission succeeds- and this time, it’s to extract Squad 7 who hold important data with them. Help will come later, till then… you’ll be on your own. May the fates be with you.”

A collective sigh went through the room- it wasn’t because of the fear of being indisposed, but the fear someone else would be and you would have to leave them behind. That was the hardest part. Sergeant Kim got up. “You are allowed to request backup, remember that. I will be back in 30- check each other’s gears.”

The half an hour passed by in a flurry of light jokes, assuring taps, fixing some part of the gear and then waiting until Sergeant Kim arrived in gear and the seven of you proceeded to move to the basement where three cars waited for you with additional soldiers. You and Major Choi got inside your car and travelled in silence for the rest of the way, watching the expanse of barren fields until you reached the border of Sector 1. You leaned a bit to see the silhouette of buildings that were at the heart of Sector 1- a city that had once bloomed with life, now dead and infiltrated with terrorists.

The city that had once been your home- and Major Choi’s, who was also staring into the distance with glazed eyes.

You proceeded to turn on the radio setup and connect it with the rest of the teams while Major Choi lazily cleaned his guns, sighing deeply in between. Once you were done testing your radios, you relaxed back and he finally spoke.

“Do you think we would have come across each other if Eden hadn’t attacked our home?”

You blinked at the sudden and personal question- another unusual thing from Major Choi today- you didn’t like being personal during a mission and he knew it. But the way you both had been stealing glances at what was once your home, you supposed curiosity got the better of him.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe? At some point of our life? Sector 1 isn’t too big.”

“I sometimes wonder if we were fated to meet each other,” he mused. “From being homeless to finding a place in the army- we have been together for a while, haven’t we?”

You pursed your lips- it still stung whenever you recalled the dark times. “Do you sometimes wonder what it would have been like if we didn’t make it in the army?”

“All the time,” he admitted, sounding grim. “But we… We kept each other in check. We still do.” You smiled at that and he joined, whispering, “We’ve kept each other alive.”

“Or maybe you have been stupid enough to not let me die- not without you,” you pointed out. “I still wonder what went through your head that one time you disobeyed all orders, risked your title and stayed back for me when I was indisposed.”

“But you did the same for me so many times,” he cocked his head. “You’ve risked your life for me more times than I can count.”

“We do that for everyone in our team,” you reminded him, though you knew he saw right through you. “We disobey orders all the time. I’m surprised they haven’t shuffled us around yet. Also, can you stop being sentimental right before a life-threatening mission?” You couldn’t help it and you both laughed. “There’s a time for everything, Major Choi San.”

He raised a brow at the way you called his name and you looked away- you could never meet his gaze long enough. Luckily, the radio sounded with your leader’s voice instructing you all to get out and walk on foot to the base in Sector 1 with your designated members and routes. You bumped fists with Major Choi before securing each other’s helmets, getting off the car and following the familiar barren road to the outskirts of the town, careful to avoid eyes but glad it was very hazy today.

The two of you walked in sync until you reached the abandoned hospital which was your station. You took the lead, he provided cover and you entered the building, inspecting it thoroughly as you made way to the 4th floor and took out the binoculars to monitor any sort of activity and help Sergeant Kim’s team get to the heart of the city. A few hours passed like that, mostly in silence, occasional comments or instructions passed through the radio, and you almost, almost relaxed until a loud blast shook you to the core, making you both instinctively duck down and cover each other, trying not to lose your footing as the ground beneath your feet rumbled.

A whistle rang in your ear and you took a few deep breaths- it wasn’t the first time you experienced a blast up close but it always made your heart sink in the worst possible way. You felt Major Choi squeezing your shoulder- you were alright. He was alright. You motioned okay at him and he peeked up from the window to inspect the damage and you followed after a moment. The six-story building that had been two streets away from you was now turning into rubble.

“That is Squad 6’s station,” you said. “Squad 7 might have been in there. We should move.”

Major Choi nodded and spoke on his radio. “Alpha- you heard that?”

“Loud and clear,” Sergeant Kim’s voice sounded grim. “Do not move right now. You’re the closest- you might meet trouble on the way. Wait for my instruction.”

“Copy that,” he replied and you both decided to move up another floor and see if you could spot the enemy somewhere. You did- a couple of men in cloaks leaving from the West Exit and you alerted Team 3 who went to inspect as per your instructions.

“We have about 20 minutes until it gets dark, and then you can inspect the damage to Squad 6’s station while on your way to the enemy’s base,” Sergeant Kim ordered. “We have retrieved two of Squad 7’s members. Team 3?”

“We have retrieved three of Squad 6’s members,” Major CJ reported. “That leaves one member from each team- Squad 6 here says they were last seen near the enemy base.”

“Team 2 will take care of it then,” the Sergeant concluded. “Meet me at the North Exit, Victor and Fox. We’ll take care of the enemy there.”

“Copy that,” the rest of you reported and you prayed silently that everyone would make it back alive. Meanwhile, Major Choi offered you a sandwich from his bag and you ate it while you kept watch, thankful that your station still hadn’t been exposed to the enemy.

As soon as the sun set, you put on your night vision goggles and started following Major Choi out, hands gripping the rifle. You both trod like cats- silent and alert. You reached the rubble of what was once Squad 6’s base in a few minutes and searched for any signs of life but found none.

“They must be around the enemy base somewhere then,” you said. “Let’s follow their last location.”

Your partner agreed and you both walked in silence yet again, hiding behind walls and rubble until you could spot the enemy base in your vision, noticing a few men walking around it, probably on guard duty.

“What if they’re held hostage?” You asked.

“Our mission is to extract them wherever they are,” Major Choi reminded. “We can request backup.”

“Let’s inspect the area first and then create a distraction before we move inside,” you suggested and he agreed.

All your senses felt heightened as you parted ways- mostly because you felt a bit defenceless that he wasn’t providing cover like he usually did. All you could think about was remaining alert and not missing anything, and you counted seconds until you spotted the Major again and joined him, containing in your sigh of relief because the mission wasn’t over yet.

“Request backup?” You asked.

“I’ll ask them to meet us right here after we’re done extracting the agents,” he said and you nodded, watching him speak into his radio while you tightened your gloves, buzzing with eagerness to get this mission done and over with. The two of you went through interconnected buildings and doorways until you stood outside a door in the basement of one of the buildings that connected inside the enemy base- some path they probably hadn’t learned about, if you were lucky, since they had quite recently changed bases. You were about to break the door when the Major grabbed your wrist-

Quite gently, you noticed.

“If things go south, you know what to do, right?”

You scoffed. “Who are we kidding, Major? We were never ones to obey orders- at least not from each other.”

Major Choi groaned loudly, almost in amusement. “If things go south, you will call for an immediate backup request, not wait for me and make your way out, is that clear?”

You did not like being talked to in that tone so you snatched your wrist and poked his chest with your gloved finger. “The last time I told you this… don’t even get me started.”

You both stared at each other, none of you giving in, his eyes locked on yours- the only thing you could see with the masks and the helmets. Your finger was still poking into his chest and he finally sighed, taking your hand in his and drawing it away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head. “If things look bleak, let’s not make them worse, okay?”

“Okay,” his voice was laced with amusement and you glared at him.

“I won’t be surprised if we have to change partners soon.”

“I won’t let them,” Major Choi promised. “You’re the only one I trust.”

“What did I tell you about not being sentimental during missions?” You broke the door, grimacing at the loud sounds that rang through the basement. “Let’s move, Charlie.”

“Got you, Echo,” he patted your back and you both stepped into the darkness, wearing your goggles again.

Every sound from that point on caught your attention. You could hear the Major’s breathing so you trained your ears to ignore it and focus on the other sounds. You walked along the path that only got narrower with each step and waited a few moments at the door which was the entrance inside the enemy base, letting the Major do his thing and check for any signs of life with his equipment.

“Empty room,” he whispered. “Go.”

You nodded and began unlocking the door with a set of pins, humming when it clicked in place and you opened the door- or tried to, since it was blocked. Major Choi helped you push it until the gap was big enough for you two to pass through and you carefully stepped inside.

“You remember the layout?” You asked and he nodded. “This must be the only storage room in the basement. Where do you reckon they would keep their hostages?”

“In the basement… in the cells. If not, they’ve defected.”

“Unless-”

“Unless that’s their strategy,” he completed and you nodded, glad your partner was one to follow his instinct and heart instead of the book, which if you were honest simply did not have a few principles right. “Let’s inspect the cells first.”

“You ready?”

Major Choi mirrored your motions- adjusting his guns and fixing the daggers in his sleeves. “Let’s get the party started.”

After that, it was a flash of blood and screams as you both exited the storage room, exterminating any enemy in sight until you reached the cells and found one of your agents inside, a bloody mess himself. You broke his chains and asked his name and when he said his codename ‘Bravo’, you were glad he was in his senses.

“Where’s Agent Oscar?” You asked and he shook his head.

“They might have taken him for questioning- I heard the guards talk.”

You clenched your jaw- this was going to get messier then, especially with the Major already firing at the incoming stream of enemy guards. “You can walk?”

“Yes,” he said and you accompanied him to the storage room, the Major providing cover. You instructed Agent Bravo to follow the path to the exit where backup would arrive in a few minutes, handed him a loaded gun and secured the door after him. You joined the Major who had just finished with a fresh wave of guards.

“They’re onto us. Let’s make it quick. I’ll shell them.”

You nodded and you took the lead this time, taking the stairs and firing at anyone who was unfortunate enough to get in your way and you made your way up another flight after inspecting the rooms on the ground level. Thankfully, you and Major Choi only had minor scratches and grazes right now- nothing that kept you from moving forward.

You took a sharp turn but got pulled back as a bullet passed, missing you by a fraction. You spared a glance at Major Choi who gave you a warning look and you heard what he meant loud and clear- ‘be careful’. Before you could continue, he took the lead and you provided cover, letting him guide you both to the end of the hallway where he turned-

And found himself faced with 5 guns pointed at his head. You were outnumbered.

You paused as well, a couple of guards aiming their own gun at you from the other end. You clicked your tongue twice and your partner understood, raising his hands in surrender and you followed suit- but what the enemy did not know was that you had learned a few magic tricks when you were little. You never thought you’d use them in the military, but here you were, a grenade rolling down the hallway out of nowhere and you clicked your fingers.

Three.

The guards shouted and you rolled another grenade with a tap of your feet, the others wondering where the hell it appeared from when your own hands had been raised as long as the Major’s.

Two.

Major Choi watched one of the guards point his guns at Agent Oscar who said a silent prayer as he looked up at the ceiling.

One.

You smirked to yourself, clicking your tongue again. The guards in front of you took cover while the ones in the room shouted at each other, trying to come up with an escape plan now that the grenade was right at their feet but failing.

Zero.

You and Major Choi switched positions in a flash and while he covered you with his body, you shot at the 5 men in a series while the grenade behind you burst. Unfortunately, one of them managed to shoot at you and the bullet landed in your calf though your reaction only lasted a few seconds. You felt the Major’s body shake against yours as rubble fell on the two of you. You ignored the pain burning though your entire body and glanced up, sighing in relief when you saw that Oscar was fine.

“We’re exiting from the window,” Major Choi got up and started planting the hook to the wall and dropped the rope down the building, groaning when he spotted movement outside the building too. He aimed at them with his rifle and got rid of them while you took care of any approaching guards, finding a few moments of peace.

“We’re sliding down first- he can’t walk properly,” Major Choi had noticed Oscar’s mutilated leg. “You’ll follow after I give the signal, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed heavily.

“You good?” He scanned you, noticing the blood dripping down. You nodded but he made quick work of pulling a piece of cloth from his bag and tying it around your leg, securing the bullet inside, the pain dimming since it wouldn’t jab with every movement you made now. Oscar stood watch in the meanwhile, inquiring about the rest of his squad and you told him they were extracted, which made his eyes fill with life again.

“Let’s move,” Major Choi called Oscar and you went back to covering for them while they escaped through the window. You sighed in relief when your radio sounded to alert you that they had made it to the ground safely but the relief didn’t last long as a bunch of guards came in your vision and you hid.

“Come down, now,” Major Choi called and you took a deep breath, knowing you would have to jump a good distance since you didn’t have enough time to simply slide down the rope all the way down. As if Major Choi had read your thoughts, he was there to cushion your jump and the three of you disappeared inside the alleyway, trying to navigate back to the spot where backup would be waiting.

However, luck was not on your side tonight. One moment you were jogging to the building in front of you and the next, the three of you were thrown into the air, the bright fire blinding you momentarily despite your protective goggles. For a few seconds, all you did was stare at the sky, wondering if you had died or if the sky was simply so cloudy that not a single star could be seen. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar groan that you came back to your senses and crawled towards your partner.

“San- Are you okay?” You managed to ask- he seemed to have hit his head somewhere, blood trickling down his forehead.

“I’m good,” he exhaled. “Oscar?”

Oscar didn’t respond and you panicked, crawling desperately towards the limp figure and found his pulse growing fainter. You began dragging him with Major Choi to the nearest cover- a big chunk of cement and you stopped, out of breath. You took off your mask and checked your radio but it had broken. You muttered a series of curses, throwing your helmet away in anger while you planned your escape.

“Take Oscar with you to the basement- backup will be waiting,” you hoisted yourself up so you could lean against the rock. “I’ll join you.”

Major Choi narrowed his eyes, taking off his own mask. “You can’t walk, can you?”

“I don’t think I can right now, but I’ll be fine- I’ll be following close, I just need to catch my breath,” you coughed, mouth very dry. “Go, now. I can hide.”

“I’ll come back for you-”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethed. “It’s already been a bad day. Just take Oscar to the backup and wait for me there- do not send anyone else.”

“I won’t leave you in this state,” Major Choi announced- a plain and simple statement.

“Just go,” you begged. “Our mission won’t be complete until we deliver Oscar back. I’ll be fine- no one will come and check in here for a while. I’ll hide elsewhere.”

Major Choi looked conflicted, glancing back and forth between you and Oscar until you nudged his thigh with your boot. He crawled towards you, throwing off his helmet and your hand instinctively went to inspect his injury, sighing internally when you found it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

What surprised you was him locking his forehead with yours as he said, “I promise I’ll be back.”

Before you could respond in any way, he had drawn back and was dragging Oscar, navigating through the rubble and meeting your eyes, pointing towards north. You understood and made a note to yourself to kill him if you made it out of here alive tonight. For now, you were going to hide in the rubble and watch them until they were out of sight. As soon as they were out of your vision, you relaxed and sat back down-

And heard the most horrible sound of gunshots in the direction Major Choi had gone- so horrible that your entire being shook. You immediately stood up and took out your binoculars to try and see if you could spot them but it was no use.

You sat back down, looking up at the dark sky- where had it all gone wrong? It was like they were prepared, like they knew you were coming. Was there a rat in your base? Or was it obvious that the Special Forces never left their agents in the enemy’s hands? Were they expecting you because they knew you so well now?

You were glad it was so dark that the tears in your eyes didn’t blur your vision- there wasn’t anything to see anyway so you blindly started crawling towards north, staying as low as possible- you weren’t sure you could walk without limping now anyway. You went from hiding behind one chunk of rubble to another, checking your watch and knowing you didn’t have much time until someone would come to check if you made it out alive.

After crawling endlessly, you checked your watch- it took you about forty minutes to simply reach the end of the destruction the blast had caused. You hid under a rock yet again, out of breath and with trembling hands you took out your bottle from the bag and drank a few sips, storing the rest for later in case you needed it. You could see your surroundings now thanks to the faint glow of streetlights in the distance and wondered if you should inspect your wound- Major Choi had done a good job of binding it. You decided to let it be and rest for a few minutes before moving forwards.

Forwards. For how long? You were already feeling groggy. Your eyes were twitching and you weren’t sure if you could remain awake if you weren’t moving.

So you decided to move. You prayed Major Choi would come back for you and disobey every order because only then you could know he was alive. For once, you wanted him to come back, because if he died-

You heard footsteps and you aimed your gun at the source, seeing the silhouette of someone walk, almost limp in your direction- the walk looked strangely familiar-

You lowered your gun when the outlines of his body became visible- it was Major Choi. He was alive-

“I searched for you everywhere,” Major Choi whispered harshly as he crouched down and a whimper escaped your mouth as he crushed you in a hug. “I thought I lost you, y/n.”

You shivered due to a number of reasons- he hadn’t called you by your name in a very, very long time. The last time he did was to wake you up when you both had been hostages together and even that had been years ago. The last time he hugged you was a memory you had almost forgotten too-

Not forgotten. Pushed in the deepest part of your memory so it wouldn’t come to you at unexpected times.

You were amazed by how awake you felt now that his arms were around you, his hand in your hair keeping your face tucked in the crook of his neck. You sighed deeply, your uneven breaths synchronising. You tugged at his shirt and perhaps, it was a wrong move. Perhaps he was suddenly aware of the position you were in because he pulled back-

You didn’t want him to pull back.

“I-” you cleared your throat. “I heard the gunshots- are you okay? Where’s Oscar?” You heard him suck in his breath when your hand touched his arm as you were drawing back and you touched the spot again, finding it wet and sticky-

Blood.

“What happened?”

“They must have spotted us- they fired. The first one hit Oscar in the head. I’m sorry-”

“But you’re okay?” You asked. “Only this?”

“Yeah, but we lost Oscar-” his voice shook and you put your hands on his.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Oscar might not have made it anyway- his pulse was very faint after the blast. You’re okay- god, I thought they got you, San, I really thought they did-”

You felt his body language shift after you called his name and you wondered just how much you both missed normal physical contact, normal human interactions since only the sound of your names on each other’s lips was making you react- perhaps even more than the casual displays of affection. You shook your head, willing yourself to focus. “What do we do?”

“Our retreat spot is compromised,” Major Choi said, “I think we should head to safety first before we come up with a plan or try to revive your radio. Mine got lost.”

“Okay,” you breathed. “Where to?”

“North, I think,” he sighed. “We mentioned north quite a few times today to the squad. They should get the hint and find us there.”

“They should,” you agreed and he got up. You followed but stumbled on your feet and he caught your arm right on time.

“Can you walk?”

“Let me try,” you said, looking around before taking a step and biting your lips so harshly it almost drew blood- the pain in your leg was burning you at this point. “I think I’ll be fine… after a few steps.”

“You don’t look fine… Major.”

You glared at him, taking another step and this time unable to control the hiss of pain. He tsk-ed. “Get on my back- it’ll save us time.”

“I’m sorry but you’re not in the best shape either,” you pointed out. “And there’s no way I’m getting on your back-”

“Major, now is not the time for the little game we play of who makes it out in better shape,” he took a step forward and you instinctively took one back, making him groan. “Get on my back- don’t make me carry you like a princess.”

“Fine,” you gave up, “You better run then. There’s no way they wouldn’t spot us.”

With that, you hopped on his back and he hooked his arms under your legs. Silently, he carried you all the way towards the north, never stopping to catch his breath though you could see he was struggling- after all, he was tired too. When you could see the North Exit gate, you motioned for him to go to find someplace to hide- there would surely be enemy prowling here after Team 1’s successful mission. So the Major finally slowed down and turned in an alley and you helped yourself down.

“I don’t think we should risk going inside one of these,” he said, glancing at the abandoned structures of what had to be houses or shops once. “We should wait until sunrise before we try something. Let’s hide somewhere- come on.”

He took your hand and you both trod silently, sticking to the walls until you found a spot where it looked like whoever cared had collected rubble there to keep the rest of the city clean. A shed roof lay on the floor, twisted, and you pointed towards it. San helped you walk towards it and you finally collapsed on the ground under it, stifling a groan. Now that you allowed yourself to relax, the weariness was catching up and making your head spin.

Major Choi didn’t miss it- he immediately dug into his bag and handed you his bottle and two of the sandwiches he still had left. You asked him to conserve the water, glad you had your own bottle and took the sandwich, though the overwhelmingness of everything was making you nauseous.

“Can I inspect your wound?” Major Choi asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t think I can be quiet if you try to extract the bullet- I think… I think I’ve lost a lot of blood,” you gulped, patting your trousers and finding them wet. “I shouldn’t sleep tonight.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” he took a deep breath and you could see the worry on his face even in the very faint light. “Someone should find us in the morning.”

“You’re okay, aren’t you? Anything odd you’re feeling?”

“Just the dull pain now,” he admitted.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Major,” you chuckled, finishing the sandwich and urging him to eat his. He shook his head, offering it to you and you grabbed it only to stuff it in his mouth, making him chuckle. “You should have stayed behind. I would have been fine- someone would have come in the morning.”

“You know me,” He finished the sandwich in two bites, drinking a sip of water. “I don’t like making it back alone.”

You clicked your tongue in disappointment. “It’s a wonder they haven’t fired you yet. It really is.”

“I could say the same for you,” he raised a brow, shifting so he could sit beside you, back resting against the shed roof. “You’re not any different from me.”

You didn’t answer, recalling the old times. For a few moments, you were both silent and then the Major tapped your thigh and you hummed to tell him you were still awake.

“Don’t fall asleep- keep talking,” he ordered and you sighed.

“You’re better at talking. I’m better at listening.”

“Just keep talking, for heaven’s sake,” he shifted to be closer to you so your shoulders were touching now. “Don’t say anything out loud- only whisper so you don’t get thirsty.”

“Okay,” you coughed a little, clenching your eyes shut when you felt a fresh wave of pain consume you. You felt the Major’s bare hands snake in yours and you smiled faintly.

“You shouldn’t have joined the mission today. Things could have been very different.”

“We’ll talk about that when we get back,” he dismissed. “Tell me what you want to do when you get back.”

“Sleep,” you laughed a little and he grinned. “What’s the time?”

“Almost midnight.”

“Damn it,” you sighed deeply. “I don’t think I’ll make it-”

“No,” he squeezed your hand. “I’m with you. I’m not letting anything happen to you. I won’t lose you- not like this.”

“Whatever,” you shrugged though you had to admit you were pleased to hear it. “Wait- isn’t that what I said when we were held hostages in Eden?”

“You remember?” He asked. You two hadn’t talked about the events of those three very, very long nights you had spent as hostages in Eden’s territory. “I thought you deleted that memory or something- you never addressed it again.”

“It’s not a good memory,” you said.

“True… but some of my favourite memories are from those days,” he began. “I made it out alive solely because you refused to let me die.”

“Is that why you’re doing the same right now?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he said and you looked at your interlocked hands. “Maybe I like us as a team and don’t want to lose you. Maybe I like you even as a friend- after all, we’ve been together for so long, haven’t we?”

“Back when we were still a boy and a girl,” you recalled. “What happened to us… San?”

There it was. The unintentional squeeze of his hand. You glanced at him and he met your eyes.

“Do you like it when I call you by your name?”

“Don’t you, y/n?”

Something like butterflies in your stomach as his deep voice sounded made you suck in a breath. “Well then… should I call you San? At least for tonight? Just like the old times?”

“Just like the old times,” he smiled, looking ahead. “How did we get here?”

“We refused to let each other go because we were rivals back then, of sorts… I’d say we still are- but we’re better as a team than rivals, aren’t we?” You said and San agreed. “It would just be even better if you stopped being an ass to me in routine.”

“It’s because I love to see you all riled up,” he said, body shaking with laughter. “It’s so easy to rile you up.”

You yawned big and wide and San waited until you were done. “You with me?”

“I am,” you told him. “Tell me then- do you do it on purpose? Only let me treat your wounds? I’m not your personal nurse, you know.”

“You know my reason,” San muttered. “Otherwise you would have downright refused. You know, don’t you?”

“Because you don’t like to show your scars to anyone… And because I’ve seen every scar on your body since the beginning, haven’t I?”

“You’re the only one who looks without judgement,” he admitted. “You know I wasn’t always the best.”

“Look at you now!” you said dramatically. “The best of the best.”

“We are, as a team,” San pointed out. “You remember how bad we are when partnered with other members.”

“Ah, right,” you giggled and San looked at you in horror. “We don’t really coordinate with others, do we?”

“What is that sound you just produced,” San scoffed. “I wonder what other sounds you make, Major.”

“You want to find out?”

San looked away- how come you both had switched roles now? “Looks like the blood loss is really getting to your head now.”

“It is,” you admitted, sinking down a bit and resting your head on your partner’s shoulder, feeling him freeze for just a moment before he relaxed. “I don’t think I should talk anymore.”

“I’ll keep you awake with pain if I have to,” he promised and you grimaced- you had done the same to him once too. No doubt he would return the favour. “If I see you getting groggy, I’m going to press on the wound, you hear me?”

You almost cried- the pain was already too much, but you knew he was right. “Why are you being like this?”

“I would do this for anyone- I cannot let you die on my watch,” he announced. “Which reminds me- give me your radio.”

“Oh, right. Are you sure I’m not the only one suffering from blood loss?” You said which he ignored, crossing his legs as he started inspecting the radio remains. You lit your watch to provide him with better light and watched him twist wires and cut them with his teeth, attempting to revive it-

For a very small moment, the sound of static came through and you both almost rejoiced until it died down. You asked San to do whatever he just did again and he did but it wasn’t any use now. The radio was dead.

You both slumped back to your original positions and this time you were the one who found San’s hand and squeezed it in assurance. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be fine,” he sighed. “Stop considering yourself dead already. If you survived that moment when we were surrounded by seven guards earlier, you can survive the night too. Good work there, by the way.”

You grinned. “How did you know what I was planning? I was half worried you’d misunderstand the signal and get us all killed.”

“Oh please, when have I ever made that mistake?”

“Are we forgetting that one time when I was waving at you from a distance and you thought I was saying hi-” you paused when San chuckled.

“You were saying ‘get the hell away’, I know,” he shook his head. “I was just curious why.”

“You keep telling yourself that. The fact is, you made a mistake which got us both grounded for two weeks.”

“Yet here we are,” he scoffed. “Still a team. The best of the best.”

“Are we?” You thought out loud. “When we’re always at death’s door?”

“Well, let’s see,” San took a deep breath. “9 out of 10 missions are successful- that’s a pretty high rating for someone in Special Forces, don’t you think? And even if we’re compromised, we’ve never lost data. Even now, I retrieved the chip from Oscar,” he patted his pocket and you looked proud. “We just have to make it back alive now, so hang in there, alright?”

You were silent for a few moments, focusing on San absently caressing your hand and glancing at you a few times to make sure you were awake. You checked the time- there were still about 3 hours until sunrise.

San grunted in pain and you opened your eyes, realising you had almost dozed off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said but you noticed his eyes twitching.

“How bad did you hit your head back then, Major Choi San?”

He rolled his eyes but you could tell it had to be something related to his head injury because his other injuries were minor. “I’m fine.”

“Can I see it? Properly?”

“I said I’m fine.”

And that’s how you knew he wasn’t. You shifted, ignoring the pain exploding through your leg as you put your injured leg over the Major’s to get half on top of him and access the other side of his head- the one you had noticed he kept away from your vision. San grabbed your wrists in an attempt to stop you but you glared at him, tski-ing in warning and he gave up, letting you inspect it.

It looked like a normal gash and it had stopped bleeding, so maybe it was a concussion. You sighed. “Are you feeling nauseous? Dizzy?”

“A little,” he admitted.

You pouted, going back to sitting next to him. “Looks like I’ll be the one keeping you awake for the night.”

He laughed to himself and you joined. “You’re making it sound like it's an awful task.”

“It is,” you rubbed your face. “Let’s not fall asleep, Choi San. Your turn to tell me what you would like to do when you go back.”

“Sleep,” he laughed and you poked his thigh. “Okay, I’d like to get a few days off. Should I get you some days off too?”

“What will we even do in our free time?”

“We could go somewhere,” he looked at you. “Remember Sector 6?”

You didn’t expect him to bring up Sector 6. It was the one time you both almost crossed boundaries with each other- your squad had gotten a few days off and all of you decided to spend those days like ‘normal people’ in the ‘normal’ sector- the one known for its lively atmosphere. The town that never sleeps, it was called. Somehow, you and San strayed away from the rest of the team and had a night you would try to forget for the next few years, the one you were still trying to forget-

It wasn’t even anything much. You two had drank and danced in a club. You two had joked about getting hooked up except you two couldn’t stay away from each other even when you tried. Whenever you looked at someone, San would make some comment about what type of a person they were. You were ashamed to admit you did the same to him too- so you two only danced with each other-

Only looked at each other.

Something had changed after that. You couldn’t shake off the ghost of his hands on your waist, on your shoulders, a comfortable weight. You called each other by your names and it almost felt like you two were only civilians, friends who were flirting with each other. At one point, he had hugged you and told you that you were the best thing that happened to him, though you were pretty sure he forgot all about that the next day, since he claimed he remembered nothing- he wasn’t good with his drinks, so you believed him.

Until he brought it up again, now.

“Sector 6?” You scoffed. “Why would you want to go there again?”

“Do I really need a reason to relive that again?”

So cryptic. You tried to make sense of his words but you couldn’t.

“Well, if we live through tonight, might think about it then,” you said, trying not to recall the things you had said to San that night. Things you wished he really had forgotten.

“Do you think we’ll live to see the sunrise?”

You glanced at San. He looked weary- perhaps, he really did need a break. You rarely ever saw him look weary. You did not like him with such low spirits. You only squeezed his hand and let the silence fall- you were both too tired to continue talking anyway, so you both resorted to tapping out morse code. It was nostalgic to talk that way, though all you were tapping was curses and ‘awake?’, it made you reminisce about your time together as agents. You supposed you would let the memories flash by- after all, you might really not live to see the sunrise.

The two hours following had to be the longest of your life. Your fingers were tired from tapping to each other, but at least that meant you were alive. You would occasionally drink a sip of water or shake each other. Sometimes you would recall a funny memory and share a brief laugh. But by the end of it, you were both so groggy that you had to press into San’s now ripped stitches to make him wake up, earning a groan that was too loud for your liking. You also made him press on your wound and you cried this time. The pain was nowhere near dull.

You didn’t notice the sky getting lighter until the rays of sun hit your face and you looked at San who was almost dozing off. You shook him.

“Hey. We lived to see the sunrise.”

San opened his eyes, blinking a few times and you watched the sun cast shadows on the sharp angles of his face. His brown eyes looked warm as he smiled.

“We really did live to see the sunrise…”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. All you two had to do now was wait for a signal- there was this new kernel of hope in your heart that you would make it out alive now- even if backup never comes, you two would make it out alive somehow-

“I wish to see the rest of my sunrises with you too.”

You stopped in the middle of shuffling through your bag, not having the strength to meet his eyes- you recognised this tone of his voice so well you knew how he would be looking at you anyway. However, you couldn’t help the smile creeping up on your face and you took out your medical kit, finally having enough light and the newfound energy to do something about San’s wounds at least.

“That’s… not something you should be saying to me. You do not wish to see the rest of your sunrises with your partner in Special Forces, Major.”

“And if I do?”

You finally looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “I think I should have done something about your wounds earlier. You’re in a worse state than I am, and I am the one who got hit by a goddamn bullet.”

San chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt and letting you take care of his stitches- he knew you were doing it not because it was necessary but because you would have something to focus on. Perhaps you were dizzy for a different reason now, in which case…

“You think I don’t mean it?”

“Major Choi San,” you warned-

“Look at me, y/n,” he called and you sighed deeply, finishing cleaning his wound and then meeting his eyes, your heart sinking at the way he was gazing at you. “You know I don’t lie. You know that. Everything that I say… I mean it. I really, really do wish we’ll be together for a long time.”

“You like working as a team that much?” You tried joking but he shook his head, his hand finding yours and snaking up to caress your wrist. You gulped, finally looking at him and the two of you just stared at each other for a few moments.

“Whatever’s going on in your head… don’t say it. Not now.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I’ll be able to make logical decisions right now,” you muttered, taking your hand away from him with immense willpower.

If you expected San’s spirits to lower, he was smirking too hard for that right now. “So that means there is something, isn’t it? How long are we going to pretend we don’t like each other like that?”

“San-”

You heard the familiar sound of a high pitched frequency and turned towards the source, San getting up immediately and taking a look around, spotting a black flag raised in the air- backup.

“Finally,” you groaned in relief. “Help me up.”

“Finish your thoughts first,” San hovered over you and you rolled your eyes, knowing there was no way out of this.

“God, you’re insufferable,” you laughed, raising your hand and he helped you up, purposely pulling you to him so you bumped into his chest and you smacked it. “I think you’re the most annoying person in my life, but I like you anyway.”

“Perhaps you’re right- must be the blood loss speaking,” he couldn’t believe his ears. Normally, you would have pointed your gun at him and threatened to blow his brains out if he ever said something like that. “Let’s talk about it when we get back. For now… thank you for being alive, y/n.”

“Thank you for coming back for me too, San,” you felt way too emotional all of a sudden. “I really thought something happened to you when I heard the gunshots- I just… thank you.”

The Major brought a hand to your face and caressed it as if it was something he did every other day. He planted a lingering kiss to your forehead and you bit the inside of your cheek to contain the sigh that threatened to leave your mouth. He simply smiled when he met your eyes as he drew back and motioned for you to follow him.

—---------------------

Your team leader allowed you to rest first before he came to check on you both in the evening, looking scarier than ever, especially having caught you both with ‘stupid snacks’ like he used to refer to them, giggling like kids with the rest of your team.

“Major Choi and Major Seo,” he called and your grins fell. Major Yu attempted to hide the lollies but was interrupted by Major Kang, who had tried doing the same which just made them roll dramatically on the floor until they hit the Sergeant’s boot. His frown got deeper especially when Major CJ chuckled out loud and Major Han slapped his arm to shut him up.

“The two of you-” he began, taking a deep breath. “How the hell did you make it back alive this time? I think I'd better like you dead now.”

Major Kang snorted. San cleared his throat. “Major Seo kept me alive!”

“Major Choi kept me alive!” You responded and he groaned.

“I don’t care who kept whom alive- you need to present a full report to me right now. There’s something I need to check. The rest of you- out.”

The team left with a series of grunts and more than one ‘boomer’ thrown at the Sergeant which earned them a threatening (but playful) raise of fist in the air. You began narrating the events, San filling in the gaps occasionally. The Sergeant nodded along until you told him about being cornered by the guards when you found Oscar.

“Did you perhaps recognise any of those guards?”

“They were all wearing masks,” San looked at you and you nodded. “I noticed one of them had a tattoo on his wrist.”

“What kind of a tattoo? Do you think you can recognise it if I show you some pictures?” Sergeant Kim asked and Major Choi said he would try. You continued to narrate the rest of the story and San mentioned the chip he had handed in earlier when they arrived.

“It’s a shame we lost Oscar, but good job staying alive and completing the mission- both of you,” Sergeant Kim acknowledged and you both relaxed in relief. “There is a reason I send you both in the heart of the operation most of the time- it’s because I trust you both. It’s not that I do not trust the others, but the three of us have worked together for the longest- and we were once a team, after all- back when I was still Major Kim,” he smiled and your heart warmed- the Sergeant wasn’t much older than you both and the three of you had been a trio back in your early days- though you both always called him your captain anyway. It’s like he was meant to lead.

“I trust you both to complete the mission no matter what, and I trust you both to make it out alive each time- even if it takes days,” he continued. “For a while, I’ve been suspecting there’s a rat around us. I don’t know which squad or who, but the past few days have been a sign enough that we’ve been betrayed- especially since they captured so many of our agents. I want you both to stay alert and wary of everyone- even the ones in your squad,” he sounded disappointed. “I know you trust your squad but you both almost died today, and I cannot help but be worried.”

You watched the Sergeant sigh deeply. “Is there anyone you suspect?”

“Not at the moment, at least not from our squad,” he admitted. “Or maybe it’s because I’m making a mistake of trusting them. Perhaps I’m making a mistake in letting you both know too. Maybe the rat is one of you.”

“Yeah, it could totally be me,” you began, scoffing. “I asked to be shot so I could pretend to die and do what?”

“Or it could be me,” Major Choi chuckled. “I went back to finish Major Seo but ended up using my last shreds of humanity to save her instead. Should have killed her when I had the chance-”

“I’m only saying!” Sergeant Kim laughed this time but you weren’t having it.

“You know what- maybe he’s the rat,” you looked at the Sergeant and San agreed. “He usually makes it out unscathed. Wonder what that means.”

“You both know there’s a reason why I rank higher than you both,” he scoffed. “With the amount of times you get hurt, I should lower your ranks-”

“Sergeant, we’re just joking. I trust you both. I really do. And I trust my squad too, but I’ll keep my guard up anyway.”

He nodded. “Take some rest, you both. Once you’re back, I have another task for the two of you- until then, I’ll take care of it.”

“What’s it about?” San asked but the Sergeant waved his hand and left. You pursed your lips.

“I knew it wasn’t simply bad luck- there must be someone who reports our activity to Eden.”

“And we can’t even narrow it down since there were four Squads involved in this mission,” San shook his head. “Do you think Sergeant Kim will be sending us on a false mission again?”

“I hope not,” you sighed, glancing at your bandaged leg, thankful the bullet hadn’t done much damage. “I need… a break.”

San laughed at that. “When are you scheduled to get some days off?”

“In two months, I think,” you tried to recall the exact date.

“That’s too far away. If we can’t have a break right now… we could at least get some drinks together?”

“You can’t even hold your liquor, Major,” you muttered and he glared at you. You shrugged, “I’m not taking care of you if you get drunk again. Last time was enough.”

“What did I do last time?”

“See? You don’t even remember,” you muttered, looking away. Last time, and the time before, and every time San got drunk… he was a mess- especially with you, and you weren’t sure if he realised it yet. “We could just go to town to get dinner. No drinks.”

“Come on, we haven’t let loose in a while-”

“Did someone say drinks?” Major CJ entered and you muttered ‘oh no’.

Because the next night, you heard a knock on your room around 10pm and you opened the door to see Major Han grinning widely.

“How’s your leg healing up?”

“Pretty well, actually,” you told her. “What’s got you so giddy?”

“We’re having drinks in Major CJ’s room,” she winked. “Even Sergeant Kim is there.”

“Oh, you better go then,” you winked back. “I think I’ll stay.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” she grabbed your hand and pulled you, making you squeal. “Sergeant Kim ordered me to bring you there.”

“No way he did,” you muttered. “Let me change?”

“Oh, you look fine,” she said, scanning your black tank top and shorts. “Absolutely ravishing.”

“Let me get a jacket, at least,” you laughed and she finally let go of you with a grin. You grabbed your uniform jacket and followed Major Han to the men’s dorm which was opposite yours, going in the direction of where all the noise was coming from-

It was a mess. Not just your squad- even some from Squad 6 were present. As soon as the Sergeant spotted you, he smirked.

“Oh no. I’m going back-”

“No, you’re not,” Sergeant Kim got up and you attempted to leave but he grabbed your wrist and everyone else laughed.

“I’m here because I’m keeping an eye out for odd behaviour,” he whispered and you scoffed.

“You’re already almost drunk. I don’t think you can ‘keep an eye out’ for much longer…” you faltered when he glared at you- “... Sergeant.”

“I need you here too- you’re good at detecting odd behaviour,” he dragged you back towards the table and you sat between him and Major Kang. “Just like old times.”

“Just like old times,” you raised the drink he poured you, clicking with the rest on the table, Major San across from you, a flush already creeping up on his neck. “Just how long have you all been drinking?”

“It was going to be just us, but Sergeant Kim decided to join,” Major Kang began. “And then he called Major Yu- they’re boomer drinking buddies so they cannot even drink without each other.”

“I’m not a boomer…” Major Yu drawled. “I am the life of the party.”

You and Major Kang ignored her and you got into a discussion about who was the best drinker in the room- it was definitely Major CJ who Major Kang said had been drinking for an hour now but still looked fresh. You two began ranking the people in the room, occasionally passing a comment, purposely ignoring San’s watchful eyes on you.

“I think the worst has to be San,” you tsk-ed. “Look at him.”

Major Kang raised a brow at the way you addressed him- he had never heard you two call each other by your first names. In fact, all of you always referred to the other formally.

“I think you must be pretty down on the ranking too if you’re calling him ‘San’,” Major Kang commented and you stared at him in confusion until it sank in. However, you could redeem yourself.

“I don’t think a Major looks like that,” you pointed at the very flushed, almost drowsy and very giggly Choi San and Major Kang almost choked on his drink as he laughed. San seemed to have noticed that and wasn’t having any of it now- he got up and went around the table to push Sergeant Kim away from you so he could sit with you.

“I bet he didn’t ask you to keep an eye out for something odd,” you scoffed. “You can’t even look after yourself right now.”

“I am a fully conscious individual right now,” he began and you shared a grin with Major Kang who was watching you two. “I may look red but I’m crystal clear inside.”

“Yeah? How many fingers do you see?” Major Kang raised three fingers.

“I’m not blind. Two.”

You hadn’t laughed this hard in such a long time that you had to put your head down, feeling dizzy for a moment. Major Kang was laughing just as hard, clapping along and you looked up to see San smiling at you.

“I know it’s three. I just wanted to make you laugh.”

“Ohh,” Major Kang looked between you two. “You can’t tell me something hasn’t changed between you two now, Major Seo.”

“He’s drunk,” you shook your head. “Everything that comes out of his mouth from this point on is nonsense.”

Thus started an argument between the three of you and halfway through it, you shut your eyes and tuned out the men on either side of you now in a heated discussion about something else entirely. You opened your eyes, wanting to rest your folded arms on the table but San was taking all the space. San, and his stupid muscular arms looking spectacular in his stupid white tank top-

Yes. You were definitely tipsy now.

You definitely were, because for quite a while you simply watched the man crowding your personal space talk. You smiled at his little habits of blinking too many times when he felt dizzy or cracking his neck to shrug off the sleep. You itched to inquire about his healing progress- for all the times you complained about being his personal nurse, you sure were worried now. You licked your suddenly dry lips when he spared you a glance.

“You okay?”

“Move, you’re taking too much space,” you muttered, pushing his arm away with your elbow and he grinned. The Sergeant got San’s attention and you and Major Kang watched the others for the rest of the night-

Until most of the agents left and San was such a drunken mess that you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Will someone please take him to his room? Or just drop him here, I don’t even care,” you mumbled. “Just get him off of me, please.”

Major CJ was cackling. “I’m not touching him. He starts demanding cuddles.”

“Neither am I,” Major Kang was half asleep but not because he was drunk.

“You both literally share a room, Major,” you glared at him.

“Jongho, do you mind if I crash over tonight?” Major Kang asked.

“Not at all,” he glanced at the Sergeant. “We can throw him on the couch, you can take his bed.”

“Wow,” you tsk-ed at all of them. “Traitors, all of you. Major Han?”

“I can’t even carry myself right now,” she said, almost tripping on her feet. “Why did Major Yu leave me all alone?”

“Probably to avoid this mess,” you muttered. “Major Choi San, wake the hell up, right now.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he mumbled.

“Then get the hell away from me?” You glared at him in disbelief- he was using your arm on the table as a pillow and it was starting to hurt. “Go to your room and sleep.”

“Help me up then,” he said, not even opening his eyes. You looked up and gathered the last of your willpower to push his head away and pull his arm.

“Take his keys,” Major Kang tossed them in the air and you caught them, flipping a finger at him. He only laughed in dismissal. You asked San to at least cooperate with you a little and that your leg would hurt if you had to carry him, which was when he finally opened his eyes and straightened.

“You shouldn’t suggest drinks ever again,” you told him, hooking your arm in his and helping him walk straight. “Look at you. Such a mess.”

“You don’t look so bad either,” he grinned and you shook your head. He pointed at the room at the end of the hall and you looked around while you walked.

“Is this your first time coming here?”

“No, but I haven’t ever visited your room since we got posted here,” you told him, unlocking his room and pushing the door open- it was pretty much the same as the other rooms but with beds on either corner of the room since he shared it with Major Kang.

“There you go,” you tried unhooking your arm but he tucked it in. “I should go now, I’m tired. Let me go.”

“I don’t want to…” he pouted and you dug your nails in his arm until he winced and let your arm go. You laughed in victory, taking a step away.

“You’re supposed to heal me, not hurt me!” He rubbed at the marks your nails left but then stopped, admiring them. “You know what? I think I’ll keep them as a badge of honour anyway.”

“Wow, okay. Want me to give you some more? This time bloody marks, perhaps?”

The way San looked at you in that moment, his eyes slowly filling with mischief and lips curling into a smirk, you finally realised what you had said. This time, you were the one flushing and you turned to leave, muttering a bye but he caught your wrist.

“Maybe I’d like that.”

“You’re very, very drunk right now,” you laughed. “You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway.”

“You think the memories don’t come back to me?” He asked, his tone changing and you stopped struggling. “You think I forgot this exact moment? In Sector 6, when…” he pulled you towards him, making you face him. “When we danced all night long… just like this,” he interlocked his fingers with yours, his other hand finding its way inside your jacket to rest on your hip. “Do you remember?”

You were afraid to ask just how much he remembered. You weren’t sure you could manage to form a question right now anyway, especially with the way he was looking at you. You could feel your walls coming down-

All it took was him bringing your interlocked hands closer to kiss your hand and you felt the years worth of effort melting in an instant.

He had done the same thing that night, in Sector 6. And you had almost kissed him and told him how much he meant to you. But you had been drunk, and you had managed to keep yourself in control, though you couldn’t stop yourself from saying things you regretted saying ever since.

You were drunk tonight too- though you were pretty sure this was the most awake you had been for a while. San still had his lips on your hand, his eyes glazed as he looked at you.

“We shouldn’t- I was drunk-”

“Then tell me you didn’t mean anything you said back then,” he scoffed. “Tell me you don’t think about us every night before you sleep. And tell me you’re not holding yourself back right now, because Major… I know you. I can see that you’re holding back.”

Indeed, he was familiar with every movement, every shift of your body like they were his own. He could read your eyes and your silence like you could read his. So when you didn’t respond, he dared to take another step and let his hand on your hip snake back so he could pull you closer, closer until you were flush against each other and you-

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, not without doing anything you might regret, so you did the next best thing and rested your head on his chest, making him freeze for the slightest moment before he relaxed and let go of your hand only to embrace you in a hug- a hug that made you melt into it and you wondered just how much you had craved this all along.

“Did I tell you how glad I am that you’re alive?” He mumbled, taking a deep breath when your arms finally went around his waist. You nodded, nuzzling the crook of his neck with your nose as a yes. He squeezed you in the hug before drawing back and kissing your forehead just like he had a couple nights ago. You inhaled deeply, wanting to stay in that moment forever. Perhaps he saw that- after all, this was probably the most vulnerable you had looked in front of him. Perhaps he wanted to test the waters- he kissed your cheek next, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Do you still think I’m not in my senses?”

His words rang in your ears and for a few seconds, you just stared back at him, trying to get your brain to work and scream at you that this wasn’t something you should be doing, especially with someone you worked with. Not like this. Not now. But the silence in your brain was louder. You found yourself inching towards him, eyes fixed on his parted lips that looked like your salvation right now.

“I don’t want you to do something you will regret later-”

You ignored his warning and pulled him towards you, meeting his lips in a kiss. You drew back, finding him more surprised than you had thought- as if he hadn’t practically led you here with his own hands. You kissed his lips again, tasting the sweet tinge of alcohol- a reminder that perhaps, this wasn’t right. But you didn’t care. You’ve had enough of this. So you kissed him yet again, but he remained unmoving. You drew back and frowned in confusion.

“Why won’t you kiss me back, Sannie?”

It was like you calling him by that name undid something in him- he let out a guttural sound before cupping your face and kissing you back like it was the last time he would get to do so- and perhaps, he feared that it was. With your somewhat clouded minds, maybe this was just in the heat of the moment- for you- because he was so sure about himself. He had wanted you for so, so long and now that he finally had you-

You tried to meet the pace of his desperate kisses but it was overwhelming you, so you let him kiss you as he liked for a moment before breaking apart for air. You cupped his face, your heart breaking at the way he looked so unguarded.

“San- I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere- I’m right here.”

“You’re here… with me.”

“I’m here,” you nodded with a smile, pecking his lips. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

San understood and then kissed you so gently that the butterflies you got earlier in your stomach felt weak- this was how it should feel, like something in you was becoming undone and you could melt right there, in his arms, and be there forever. You wrapped your arms around his neck to meet his lips better and he held you close to him as if his arms were the only reason you were standing- you realised it was true because your knees were putty. He made you wrap your legs around him and pinned you to the wall, making you sit on his thigh while he kissed you.

The way he kissed… you were absolutely losing it. The sound of his mouth on yours and the little grunts he produced were driving you crazy. The way his hands stayed on your waist, his thumbs hooking on your tank top made you shiver against him and he smiled into the kiss. And his tongue- oh goodness. He was incredible and you were wondering why you hadn’t done this earlier.

This time when you broke apart, he started trailing kisses down your neck and you shut your eyes in pleasure, rocking against his body, and when his lips stayed on one part of your skin unmoving but his hands gripped your hips, you realised he liked what you were doing. He liked you moving against his thigh. He looked up, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Just how long have you wanted me, Major Seo?”

You raised a brow, annoyed, and smacked his arm, making him chuckle and capture your lips in a kiss again, guiding you towards his bed where he sat you, getting on top of you and you were both grinning and about to kiss again when-

When you both heard the sound of click on the door and couldn’t do anything but watch Major Kang enter, humming to himself, and then looking up-

And freezing.

For a few moments, it was so silent that you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Uh… carry on, please, don’t stop on my account,” he finally said, looking mortified. “I’ll just see myself out-”

“Wait-” you called but he only waved and disappeared, making you look at San-

And then you both burst into laughter, unable to tone it down, laughing as loudly as you could until you had tears in your eyes. San wiped his eyes, shaking his head at you.

“You really won’t be laughing like this tomorrow, y/n. I hope you will be, but I know you.”

Your smile slowly fell. You found San’s hand and looked at your interlocked hands for a long time. San didn’t ask what you were thinking- he knew anyways. So when you said you were going back to your room now, he let you- but not before he kissed you again and you responded enthusiastically- you really had no control over yourself tonight, it almost turned into another makeout session but San drew back.

“You should go. But when tomorrow comes… don’t tell me you regret any of this, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He visibly relaxed. “Goodnight, y/n. I’ll come with you- I have to fetch Major Kang anyway. He might be traumatised.”

You chuckled, saying goodbye and going to your room and finding yourself unable to sleep because you couldn’t help replaying what just happened in your head- smiling like an idiot in love.

Maybe you were.

—--------------------------

“Can you stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Major Kang raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not looking at you.”

You paused in the middle of cleaning your bullet wound to glare at the man in front of you who was also in the middle of changing his own bandages in the medical ward. He stifled a smile but failed, opting to turn his back to you instead.

“Just say it. Say it and get it over with.”

Major Kang sighed deeply. “Look, I’m not interested in what you and Major Choi do when you’re both alone- ” You threw the roll of surgical tape at him which he caught with a glare but he continued, “-I really did not have to see that sight when I came into my room, Major Seo. That’s all I’m saying.”

Years of training did not teach you how to keep the flush from your face. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it before. ‘It just happened’- ”

“Shut up,” you groaned. “It really did just happen.”

“Don’t tell me it was your first time,” he scoffed and when he didn’t get a response, he gasped out loud, actually looking concerned for once. “It was your first time?”

“Yes,” you muttered, looking around and glad no one was in the vicinity. “If you’re thinking me and Major Choi are a thing, you’re wrong.”

“So you only made out yesterday because you were drunk?”

Was what you were asking yourself ever since the morning too. It was definitely not because you were drunk- moreover, you promised San that you would not regret this.

And you did not. You were just confused about a number of things, especially how this would go on now. And you were glad the day was almost over and you still hadn’t come across San because you weren’t sure you could face him right now- you needed to get your thoughts straightened.

“You’re confused,” Major Kang scanned your face with curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this confused, and I’ve known you for a very long time now. Something happened when you two were out there until we came to retrieve you, right?”

You sighed deeply, finishing bandaging your leg again and seating yourself on the corner of the bed. “I always thought that Major Choi joked around with me, but you know how he gets around me when he’s drunk, right?” Major Kang nodded and you continued. “I thought he only did that to rile me up or something-”

“He didn’t, but okay, carry on.”

You passed him a side-eye. “We’ve had a few moments in the past two years. Moments when I wondered if Major Choi was going to cross the boundaries of professionalism and do something that might change our dynamic-”

“Can you sound any more cryptic?” Major Kang sighed. “Just say that you like him.”

“I do!” You groaned out loud, burying your face in the bed.

“Major Choi likes you too- you’ve just been too blind to see it.”

“I know.”

“Then I don’t see the problem?”

“I just…” you got up. “We’re special agents, Major Kang. Do you think it’s a wise decision to make? To be with a member of your team, of all the people in the world? We walk into death’s trap every other day and it’s honestly a miracle that we’re still alive, isn’t it? We’re on borrowed time. I just… I cannot make this more complicated than it already is.”

“Hmm… it makes sense,” Major Kang finished bandaging his own arm and sat next to you. “But that’s the agent in you speaking about all this professionalism and stuff. It’s not like the other agents here don’t have a family. Major Yu is a mother. You think she didn’t think about this before marrying a civilian?”

You bit your lips- it was true. Major Yu was someone you had immense respect for- she was balancing her work and personal life extremely well. As a mother, as someone with a family, she probably risked more than any one of you when going into missions. Major CJ was the only provider in his family too.

“I think there’s something else you’re scared of… and perhaps, you haven’t figured out what exactly that is yet,” Major Kang smiled knowingly. “I think you just need to go with the flow. If you really think you’re on borrowed time, shouldn’t you be living each moment to the fullest instead of holding yourself back?”

That line stuck with you.

It stuck with you for the rest of the day, making you wonder just what would be so bad about being with Choi San and what was really stopping you and making you so afraid of the future.

You didn’t try to find Major Choi that day but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. You did come across him the next day but it was with everyone else and it was very casual- as if nothing had happened between you two. You were arguing just like usual, met up with Sergeant Kim to get the files and data for your next mission and the three of you planned a strategy for hours until you parted ways for the night. You wondered if he had actually been so drunk that he forgot the events of that night when a knock sounded on your door and you checked the time, wondering if it was one of the girls who needed something-

And blinked twice when you opened the door and found Major Choi in front of you.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, looking around, wondering if something had happened-

“Shouldn’t we talk?”

Oh. Your eyes went wide and you pulled him inside, shutting the door. “You shouldn’t come here so casually.”

“Why? Major CJ comes and goes as he pleases- I’ve never seen anyone feel strange about that.”

“Jongho is everyone’s baby here,” you told him. “He’s like our little brother. We don’t mind him,” you grinned. “However, you coming here is another story-”

“Oh? On a first name basis with Jongho yet the first time you called my name in years is because we thought we wouldn’t live to see the next day?”

You scanned his figure- he was still in his uniform and it looked like he hadn’t gone back to his room at all. He had removed the bandage from his cheekbone so there was a dull graze instead. His hair was no longer combed back but messily falling on his forehead as if he had been running his hands through them.

“If you wanted to be called by your name that bad, you could have just asked,” you said casually, steering towards the small kitchen in your room and offering him a drink. He raised a brow.

“Should we drink again?”

You sighed deeply, resting your figure against the counter and ditching the drinks. “You came to talk.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you looked down at your bandaged calf. “How’s your arm?”

“What do I mean to you?”

The room fell silent. The silence was too suffocating. You did not realise how long you simply stared at San until he took a step towards you and you took a step back, watching hurt flash in his eyes.

“Wait, let me just…” you tried saying something to undo that moment, swallowing the anxious wave that spread through you. You took a deep breath and looked at the man-

The man who meant the world to you. The only person who had been in your life for so long and was such a big part of it. How could you ever tell him that with words?

“Just tell me one thing, y/n,” he insisted, his voice low and so cautious. “Tell me if you regret where we are right now.”

“I don’t,” your response was immediate. “I don’t regret any moment of it.”

“Then what are you so afraid of?”

You looked away and this time you didn’t stop San as he inched closer towards you until he could hold your hands in his. “Tell me what’s holding you back.”

Your heart fluttered at the sight of your linked hands. You weren’t sure you could say anything that would not hurt him at that moment but there were some things you needed to address. “Should we really do this, Major? We’re special agents. We’re a team. You can’t tell me this is a good decision.”

“Do you think I care about that?” He asked. “We’re a team and we will continue to be a team. Nothing will change.”

“That’s a lie, though,” you smiled sadly as you looked at him. “Everything will change. Everything has changed.”

“Not for me,” he brought one hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, studying your eyes and trying to decipher the puzzling look in them. “I have loved you for so long that it’s become a part of me now.”

You shut your eyes, letting that sink in and when he took another step towards you, you didn’t stop him as he kissed your forehead. “I know you feel at least a fraction of what I feel for you. So tell me all your fears, y/n. I’m here.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” You laughed a bit. “I’ve always talked about professionalism, haven’t I? I’ve always talked about how unprofessional it is to have an intimate relationship with someone in this field when you don’t even know if you will live to see the next day. How can I do this and not be afraid, Major?”

“I mean…” he pouted. “You’re right but we’re still alive-”

“Major Choi San-”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he laughed and you were kind of grateful that he was keeping it light because you weren’t sure what sort of a mess you would become otherwise. “I know what you mean. I feel that as much as you do. But y/n…” he caressed your cheek. “Every mission where we cheat death, I grow more and more afraid of losing you. And then I think about what I will regret if I lose you- not telling you how I feel about you. How much you mean to me.”

“That’s why I’m afraid, San,” you admitted. “I know one day it’s going to happen. I know why I’m here, I know how dangerous it is, and I have seen what happens when you lose someone in this manner. You know that.”

You were referring to your mother. He knew the stories about your family quite well- you told him when you first became friends. “This war is ugly. We’re here to end this and we will die in the process. It is our fate. We’re only going to make it more complicated for us if we do this.”

Major Choi did not like the way you thought about these things- time and time again, you both had been on opposite ends in this argument. He had tried so hard to break your walls and make you see life from an optimistic lens. He wished you could take a peek in his mind.

“I would rather die happy than to live regretting what I could have done for the rest of my life,” San said, making you lock eyes with him. “I would rather have known the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin on my skin than to imagine what it could have been,” he leaned down to whisper in your ears-

“And I would rather have known the sounds you make when I touch you, because god, I cannot get those sounds out of my head.”

Warmth pooled in your stomach at his words and perhaps he was good at triggering you to do things you wouldn’t normally do because you saw the opportunity and took it- you saw his bare neck and snaked your hand up to push the collar of his jacket to the side so you could plant a sweet kiss at the spot you had your eyes on- the spot that had made him squirm that night. This time, he was the one making those sounds and perhaps he was right-

You’d rather die having known all those things. Having known what he felt like, in every way possible.

San’s grip on your waist tightened a bit as you trailed kisses up his neck to his jaw and then caressed the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. You were dazed in that moment and you did not want to think about anything else except the fact that he was so close to you right now, so close that you could feel the warmth of his body and it felt so welcoming. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, realising it might be your favourite spot. San let you have your moment until he hummed to make sure you were alright.

“What are you thinking, love?”

You sighed. How could you ever get used to him calling you ‘love’? How could you ever get used to being in his arms and feeling so safe? How could you go to the field with him covering you? You would want to shield him from everything. But then…

You have always felt that way. Perhaps he was right. It wouldn’t be so different.

You didn’t respond. You drew back and scanned his face once before locking your gaze on his lips. He got the signal and he immediately planted his lips on yours and you kissed him, feeling every nerve in your body ignite with pleasure. One of his hands went to rest on the back of your neck, his thumb caressing your skin and guiding you as he kissed you better, deeper until you had to draw away and catch your breath.

You melted at the way he couldn’t open his eyes for a few moments. For the shortest moment, you could understand why you were afraid of all the wrong reasons, though that did nothing to soothe your anxiety. It was only San kissing you again that made you forget about all your fears and let yourself get lost in that moment. He picked you up effortlessly and took you to the couch, placing you down ever so gently as he got on top of you.

“I need you to use your words,” San moved your hair away from your face gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me we’re good.”

“We’re good,” you nodded. “San, please-”

San realised what you meant when he noticed the position you both were in- he was hovering on top of you but his knee was dangerously close to your core. His breath got caught and he looked at you again but before you could take the matters into your own hands, he held your wrists.

“Tell me what you want.”

You groaned, looking away but San wasn’t having any of it. He leaned closer, turning your face to him gently by placing his fingers under your chin and made you lock eyes with him. You watched his lips curl into a smile and he said, “Look at you, Major. You’re all flushed.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, attempting to hide your face but he was grinning, not allowing you to do so. You huffed in defeat, locking eyes with him yet again, trailing one hand up his arm and then down his chest to unbutton his jacket slowly. San watched you while you did that and then his jacket fell open, leaving him with a black tank top underneath. You were about to snake both your hands under when he gripped your wrists again.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

“I want you,” you breathed, propelling yourself forward so you could meet his lips and you pecked them. “I want you, Major. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, however short it may be, even though the rational part of my brain still thinks it’s a bad idea,” you said, letting San fall back on the couch so you were now on top of him with your legs on either side of him. “I don’t know how long I’ve wanted you for, how long I’ve loved you because I know I do, I just… never allowed myself to think about this, so,” you bit your lips, looking at him and finding his gaze overwhelming. His grip on your wrists loosened and you took that chance to place your hands on his collarbones, caressing them. “You mean so much to me. I will always be afraid of losing you. And I don’t know how we’ll figure this out- how I will figure this out since you seem to have the hang of it already, but…” you both laughed at that and you locked eyes with him. “I want you.”

San kissed you, lingering there. “Say that again.”

“I want you,” you breathed, meeting his lips again and opening your mouth as soon as his tongue swiped your lips, your arms going around his neck to hold him closer as you kissed. It wasn’t rushed yet there was a sense of urgency now that you both had bared your hearts to each other. And San wasn’t shy while making out with you at all. His hands were everywhere and soon, he shifted so he was back to being on top of you, which was when he started to trail his lips down your neck.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, fisting your shirt and you nodded, taking off his jacket first. He smirked, taking off your shirt for you and leaving you in a black athletic bra. He shook his head in amusement but went back to trailing kisses down your neck. You shut your eyes and lowered your defences- that was what he was aiming to do. His kisses were gradually releasing all the tension from your shoulders and you wondered how he knew that. His hands travelled up your waist and you opened your eyes, nodding and he wasted no time taking off your bra as well and when you pouted, he laughed, taking off his tank top.

“Now we’re even,” he grinned, looking shamelessly at you and you resisted the urge to fold in on yourself.

“No, we’re not,” you muttered. “And stop looking at me like I’m your last meal.”

San laughed heartily, kissing your lips and you smiled into the kiss. “You’re beautiful. So beautiful. Seo beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you groaned. “That joke is the worst thing I’ve heard.”

“It cracks you up everytime,” he muttered against your mouth, kissing you again and diving down, his hand cupping one of your breasts and playing with it while he kissed and licked and nibbled everywhere he could. You couldn’t breathe and you put a hand over your mouth as if you needed to stifle your sounds but he noticed that and held your hand away.

“Don’t be shy, Major. I need to hear you make all those pretty sounds.”

“God, you’re insufferable-” you began but he went to attack your sweet spot right at that moment, earning a little moan and then he smiled in victory, making you slap his arm. You decided that he had teased you enough and with your legs, you pushed him away to get back on top of him, your chests flush against each other and your arms around his neck, holding his face closer to yours as you kissed him deeply, rolling your hips on his lap and earning a loud groan from him. You grinned in the kiss but this time, it was you who groaned when he grabbed your waist and made you do that again.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded, kissing you again and you nodded, matching his movements and finding him hard against your core. You weren’t trying to hold back your noises anymore and neither was he, and you were glad at least one of you had a room all to themself so you could do this without any worries. You gave up on kissing at some point and snaked your hands down his chest to the plane of his stomach, tracing his abs, and then down and down-

“Shall we take this to bed?” San suggested, stifling a groan when your hands played with the waistband of his pants. “You’re not shy anymore.”

You shrugged and he got up, making you wrap yourself around him, giggling as he made his way to your bed, dropping you gently. He caressed your injured leg. “We don’t want you to be uncomfortable, do we?”

You hummed, letting him take your trousers off and he got back on top of you, admiring your body and wondering where to start. You poked his stomach with your toes and he laughed, nuzzling your neck with his nose and you took a moment to memorise how that felt, because…

You felt so, so safe. There were no alarms ringing in your head. There were no sounds alerting you except the sound of his breath or his kisses which relaxed you. There was no sense of rush, for all your talk about ‘being short on time’. You wrapped your arms around him and he was quick to detect the sudden shift in your mood but didn’t say anything. He knew you were figuring it out along the way now, and he was elated that you even gave him a chance to prove that it wasn’t as bad as you thought. He settled next to you, bringing you in his arms and you placed a leg on top of him. His hands went to cup your thigh and your breath hitched at the sensation of his hand so near where you wanted him so, so bad. You fiddled closer and he kissed your head, letting his hands caress your inner thigh.

“Are we good?”

“So good,” you almost moaned, kissing his lips again. You wanted- no, needed him at this point. And you were glad he understood you so well, so when his fingers slid inside your panties, you shuddered against him. He caressed your folds, finding you soaked and kissing you eagerly as he slid his fingers up your wet folds, rubbing your clit once and you moaned into the kiss, pushing your hips against his hand to meet his movements better. He continued like that, just teasing you and kissing all your moans away before he finally slid one finger inside you-

“Fuck,” he groaned in your ear. “You feel so good.”

You didn’t respond, shutting your eyes and letting him continue like that for a while until he slid another finger inside you and you groaned loudly.

“Gosh, you’re perfect,” he met your lips in an open mouthed kiss. “Look at you. All needy for me.”

“You look like you’ve done this before,” you bit your lips, stifling a moan. “You’re pretty good at what you’re doing.”

“Am I?” He grinned, pressing his thumb to your clit and making you squirm. “I think it’s just because I know you so well. I know exactly how to get you riled up, Major.”

You rolled your eyes but when he started to stop teasing and start pleasing, you brought him closer, your kisses messy and needier now as he drove you to the edge and he drew back to watch you fall apart on his fingers, shuddering deeply and out of breath. He peppered kisses on your face as you recovered from your high and you finally opened your eyes.

“Shall I return the favour?”

San raised a brow before it hit him and he groaned. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop if you decide to touch me tonight, Major.”

“I never asked you to stop-”

“Shh,” he scolded, putting a finger on your lips and you took that chance to kiss it, making him laugh in disbelief. “I don’t want to rush anything with you,” he kissed you deeply. “I will have you soon, I promise that. I should let your leg heal first. I know it still hurts.”

You pouted deeply and he settled next to you, holding you in his arms. “Just let me hold you like this tonight, okay?”

“If that’s what you want,” you said, content to be right there. There was no better feeling than this. “I will have my revenge soon, though.”

“Oh? Is that how it is now?”

“Yes,” you grinned, “I will settle the score soon.”

San shook his head in amusement and you teased each other for a while, occasionally riling the other up until you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

—----------------------------

You were starting to understand why people always choose love no matter what their circumstances were. You were starting to understand how they found love even in the darkest of times, because…

Choi San was making sure that you would never feel alone or sad again.

A lot had changed since that night. While working, you two were pretty much the same. He would still rile you up with his bad jokes (were they bad if they did make you crack up later?) and you would still threaten to off him each time. It was very casual like before, yet…

He still refused to get his bandages changed by anyone else and invited himself to your room each morning and night so you could play his nurse. In the mornings since you were short on time and had to get to work, you two would joke around or share a light kiss which was routine now- you still marvelled at how it had become something you could call ‘routine’. But at night…

You asked Major Kang later if he was lonely because his roommate was spending most of his nights in your room. He only laughed in response and said he couldn’t care less because Major Choi annoyed him enough in the day so he could make up for it. You tsk-ed at that, having missed the chance to use that card on San so he could stop coming to your room all the time- surely the others must have noticed now as well. But could you really put all the blame on him when you were just as eager to see him at nights as he was?

Perhaps, you were more to blame. He would come in your room with the excuse of you checking on his wounds, and each time you would end up tracing the scars on his body, kissing some of them and that would turn into a makeout session and more, until you were skin on skin. He would return the favour then- trace your scars but each time with a story-

“I wish I had reacted earlier so you wouldn’t have gotten this.”

“I wish I had been there instead of you.”

You knew that the Major had the softest heart since the beginning, but it still amazed you when he looked at you with such hurt in his eyes, as if it physically pained him to see your body littered with scars. You told him it was okay, that these scars were unavoidable and you didn’t think much of them, but he only responded that he found them beautiful- especially the ones you took for him.

“Oh? Can you count all the ones I took for you?” You had asked.

“I can. I bet you can count all the ones I took for you too,” he responded with a smirk.

He was right. You could. You had his body memorised since the very beginning- you could trace each of his scars with your eyes shut. You told him that and he was pretty pleased to hear that, attacking you with newfound affection and adoration that sometimes you found overwhelming but loved anyway. Overwhelming only because you had pushed him away all these years and-

And because it reminded you of your parents.

Your parents had been so much in love. Your mother would wait for the weekends when it was time for your father to visit from the army. She would become a different person in his presence and you had loved that about her. You often resented your mother for breaking apart after your father’s sudden death, but now you were starting to understand what she must have felt because you were sure you would be the same. However…

She did not possess the power to protect her partner. You did.

You were thinking about that when San nuzzled your cheek and broke you out of your trance. “You’re zoning out, love.”

You realised that you were- you had been staring at the documents in your hands for far too long now. You cleared your throat and started arranging them again so you could get back to the page you had been reading before you got lost in your head. San watched you do so and asked, “Is something bothering you?”

“No, I was just thinking about a few things,” you said, remembering where your train of thoughts started when you found the page. “Look- that’s Agent Golf, right? From Squad 6?”

“Major Lee, yes,” San scanned the page. “From that damned mission two years ago.”

You recalled that very well- the agents here still referred to that incident because everyone thought it had been a mistake to take an injured agent to the field. Sure, you needed manpower at that time and every soldier counted, but…

You all could still have avoided Major Lee’s death.

“I don’t remember him much, I’m sure you’ve interacted with him more,” you began and San nodded in agreement, “Was he close to his squad members? Like we are?”

“He was one of the older members,” San recalled. “So I’m sure his juniors depended on him a lot.”

“Did they ever find his body? I remember the funeral but I remember they didn’t find a body.”

“I’ll have to ask Sergeant Kim. What are you thinking?”

“I’m just wondering…” you began, your gut feeling making you confused. “I’m wondering if he is still alive.”

“If he was…” San shifted towards you. “I’m sure someone would have gone to retrieve him or he would have found his way back. It’s been two years.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you shook your head and put the page back inside the folder. “It’s sad. We don’t even know if he had a family.”

“I’m sure his squad members will be taking care of that,” San placed his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it assuringly. “What’s really bothering you, love?”

You passed him a side-eye as you smiled. He knew you too well. “Nothing. I just don’t like the idea of performing a background check on people we are supposed to trust. I don’t like the idea that there is a rat among us.”

San could understand. “I’m more surprised than mad. I don’t know why anyone would choose to do that- when Eden has destroyed our home and families.”

“Right? I’m trying to look into why anyone would do that in the first place. That way we would be able to narrow down our suspects.”

“And is that why you were looking into Major Lee? Do you think he might be alive?”

“I was probably overthinking,” you sighed, cracking your neck. “I’ll look into the rest later. Do you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee, please,” San said and you nodded, kissing his temple and getting up to go to the kitchen. Today had been a long day and you were getting tired of suspecting everyone around you- at least not your squad. They could never do that.

You were just mixing up different blends of coffee when you felt arms wrap around your waist and you jumped, making San laugh. “I didn’t even hear you!”

“I wasn’t trying to be silent. You’re too lost in your head tonight,” San kissed the top of your head. “Long day?”

“Since I can’t go to the field for a while, Major Yu is making me do all her paperwork while she goes in my place,” you sighed. “I like being in the field better. I can’t sit at the desk all day.”

“I miss you too,” San muttered and you laughed, trying to grab the sugar pot but San just held you closer, resting his head against yours. “I miss being on the field with you. I had to partner up with Major Yu- she couldn’t stop cracking jokes through the radio- I almost got caught because of her twice.”

“I think that’s how she copes,” you giggled. “And you better be careful. I’m done nursing your wounds.”

“Are you?” San backed away only to stare at you. “Because I distinctly recall you kissing all my wounds a couple nights ago-”

You smacked his chest, asking him to back away if he wanted his coffee, but when he swung you around whilst tickling you, you were positive your laugh must have rang throughout the dorms and you put a hand over your mouth when he placed you on the counter.

“Major Choi San, the entire dorm must have heard my laugh-”

San shut you up with a kiss, catching you by surprise. However, you were quick to melt into it, the butterflies in your stomach wild. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss and when he broke apart, he watched you as you caught your breath, your lashes fluttering while you gazed at his lips- he was driving you insane.

“You know how much I love it when you laugh, don’t you?”

You sighed internally- the Major was pretty direct with his words and feelings. No beating around the bush- not from him. Sometimes, you appreciated that because he was so clear and straightforward with you, no room left for confusion.

But at times when he said things like these…

San smiled, watching your cheeks get flushed. “You know… I never thought it was that simple to make you blush. With just words. You never blush when we make out or have sex, but…”

“What can I say? I’m not hard to please,” you laughed a bit, burying your face in his neck, still shy from his sudden comment. “Maybe you should have tried that instead of teasing me all this time.”

San hummed in agreement, running his hands down your arms and then snaking them inside your shirt to hold you at your waist. You kissed his neck in response, fisting his shirt and looking up at him. “This needs to go.”

“Oh?” San scoffed. “Not tired anymore, are you?”

“Oh, I still am,” you helped him take off his T-shirt, running your hands across the smooth planes of his chest. “I’m just waiting for you to do something about it.”

“And? What would you like me to do about it?” San brought his hand up to your face to caress it as he looked at you lovingly, tracing the curves and edges of your face and sliding a thumb across your lips, a faint hint of smirk on his own lips as he slid his thumb inside your mouth. You pretended to bite him, making him grin but then you sucked on it until he looked pleased. He traced it across your lower lip again before kissing you softly.

“Words, love. I need your words.”

“You can do whatever you want to me-”

“That’s pretty vague,” San cocked his head. “I could leave you right here and go back to sleep.”

“Well then,” you huffed. “Why don’t you bend me over and fuck me? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Ah, that’s better,” San started taking off your clothes until you were in your panties only. You watched him take in the sight- he always did that. His eyes would travel everywhere along your body as he ran his rough palms across them, and then he would start kissing your neck, peppering kisses anywhere he liked until you were squirmy and needy for him. It was as if he aimed to please you and you alone- he wouldn’t let you have your way until he was done with you.

You clenched your thighs as he stopped sucking on the crook of your neck and he noticed, raising a brow. “Already needy for me?”

“Do something about it,” you said through gritted teeth and he let his hands run down your sides until he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. You spread your legs for him, your core throbbing painfully now- and perhaps, he could see it on how you furrowed your brows. San rubbed at your clothed clit and you moaned loudly-

And that was his undoing. He dragged you closer and slid his fingers under your panties, sliding them along your wet folds and sliding his tongue in your mouth simultaneously, making you grip his shoulders as he kissed you. You lifted yourself up so he could take off your panties and he did, bending down to slide them off your legs and gripping your thighs afterwards, spreading them to see the mess he had made-

“In just a few minutes… you really want me that bad?” He commented and you groaned.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, you will,” he promised, trailing kisses up your thighs and keeping them apart before his lips reached dangerously close to your core. He looked up at you once, settling on his knees before licking up a stripe and you cursed loudly, one hand supporting you up while the other automatically went to grip San’s hair-

Oh, how he loved that. He licked up again before his tongue dived inside you and his thumb started rubbing slow, slow and steady circles on your clit. It was too much and at the same time, it was not enough- you wanted him impossibly closer to you. He was driven by your moans and he was so good at what he was doing. You tried clenching your thighs but he wouldn’t let you. You moaned shamelessly when his nose rubbed against your clit as he shifted his position and at this point, he was practically making out with your clit.

“San, please,” you begged. “I’m so close.”

He only hummed, inserting a finger inside you- he had done this enough times now to know exactly what drove you to the edge. The combination of his finger inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit and his tongue lapping your juices while he hummed against you drove you to your high and you tugged at his hair as you broke apart, clenching your thighs against his face but he did not stop- he continued with his ministrations until you were spent and you recovered from your orgasm. When he finally looked up at you, he grinned and you chuckled to yourself, running your hands through his hair. He got up and wiped his mouth with his hand.

“You’re delicious.”

“Shut up,” you smacked his chest but he shook his head, capturing your lips in an open mouthed kiss and diving his tongue inside so you could taste yourself on him and the way he kissed you, gripping your neck and hips and scooting you closer so you spread your legs and met his hard bulge made warmth pool in your stomach again for what was in store next.

“I’m nowhere near done, as you can already tell,” he muttered, tucking your hair back before taking out a condom from his pocket and shrugging down his trousers and boxers, his hard length swollen and ready to take you. You licked your lips at the sight and he noticed that, shaking his head in amusement as he pumped himself a few times before wrapping the condom around his length.

“Fuck me, San.”

“What?”

“Fuck me, Major Choi San,” you said, not a shred of exhaustion in you as you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer, his length wedged between the two of you. “I want you to fuck me right here, hard.”

San growled in your ear, biting your earlobe in response and positioning his cock to meet your wet folds, rubbing it against them a few times before sliding it inside you and you helped position yourself better, letting out a deep breath once he was fully wedged inside you-

And then he pumped himself in you- hard.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and he started pumping his length in and out of you, kissing you anywhere his mouth could meet in between, your hands running across his back, chest, waist, and gripping at his hips.

“Harder, San. Harder,” you begged. “I don’t want you to be soft this time.”

“Babe, do you want me to break you?” San asked, slowing down.

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing his lips. “Break me.”

San groaned, placing his hand on your neck and pushing you back until you were flat on the counter and you decided you liked this position better already, until-

Until he placed your legs on his shoulders and started pumping into you and your moans got uncontrollably loud, his length hitting you so deep in places you hadn’t discovered earlier.

“You like this, huh?” San groaned. “Want me to use you like a ragdoll?”

You only moaned in response, already close even though he seemed nowhere near done and you wondered if you really should have asked for this- though the pleasure now was nothing like what you had before. He took your hand and placed it on your stomach, pressing it so you could feel him pumping in and out of you, while his other hand remained on your neck, occasionally squeezing it lightly making your walls clench around him uncontrollably.

“So tight for me,” San grunted, “Always so tight for me.”

“I’m so close-”

As soon as you said that, San squeezed the sides of your neck and pumped deeply into you, making you break apart with a loud moan, the orgasm heightened thanks to his hand on your neck. He continued for a few moments until he, too, groaned loudly and reached his orgasm, shaking as his body rested on top of you.

You both stayed like that for a few moments with you caressing his head. When he recovered, he started peppering soft kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He drew back to lock eyes with you, and before he could say anything-

“I love you so much.”

His eyes went a little wide at the sudden confession. He smiled, pecking your lips. “I love you too. I’m glad you finally caved in, y/n. I’m glad you’re mine.”

“Hmm, you might need to be a little more convincing…”

San raised a brow, laughing loudly at your suggestion. He snatched a few tissues from the table and started cleaning your thighs.

“Next time you say that you’re tired,” he began. “I’ll understand that you just mean you want to be fucked-”

“San!” You laughed, getting up from the counter and down on the floor, your legs wobbly and you instinctively held on to him.

“You were saying?”

You glared at the man, smacking his chest as you muttered you were going to the shower. He shook his head, deciding to follow you there too.

—----------------------------

“Route 2 is clear, Team 1 please proceed forward,” you said into the radio, switching your position to the other window, making sure Team 1’s exit point was also clear. You heard a ‘copy that’ confirmation and zoomed in on the exit.

“All clear on the West Exit. Team 2, please report your status?”

“We’re ready,” Major Choi’s voice sounded.

“Copy that. Proceed to the West Exit from Route 4. Team 3, I need confirmation for data retrieval?”

“Data retrieved,” Major Han responded.

You moved to the other end of the room, signalling Major Yeom to keep watch on the West Exit while you checked Team 3’s route. After confirming a clear path, you called in the radio, “Team 3 towards North Exit- avoid Route 3. I spot movement.”

“Copy that,” Major Han confirmed and you watched for any signs of movement. All seemed clear and you allowed your shoulders to relax a bit, taking a deep breath. You switched positions with Major Yeom again, asking if everything seemed okay and he reported that it did.

“Team 1 has exited,” Sergeant Kim called.

“Copy that,” you finally spotted Team 2 not far behind, Major Choi and Major Yu walking stealthily towards the gate, the enemy guard having disappeared to switch rotations. You watched them exit and exhaled another breath of relief.

“I’m spotting movement on the North Exit,” Major Yeom called and you waited until Team 2 was safely outside and signalled their exit before joining Major Yeom across the room. You zoomed in with your binoculars and indeed, three guards seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. You frowned, “Where did they come from?”

“I spotted them around that building,” Major Yeom pointed, turning on his radio and you nodded. He called, “Team 3, please halt. Proceed to find shelter- movement spotted near the North Exit at your 10 o’clock.”

“Copy that,” Major CJ answered. Major Yeom alerted the Squad 6 members waiting for Team 3 at the North Exit and you dared to ask him something.

“How has your squad been holding up after Agent Oscar?”

Major Yeom slowly brought the binoculars down, glancing at you for a moment. “Uh… we’re holding up okay, for the most part. It’s not the first time this happened after all.”

You felt a sharp sting at his words but you knew what he meant. He was probably talking about the past members such as Major Lee and the others. “I know. Somehow… you get used to being okay. You just have to be.”

“Yeah…” Major Yeom switched his binoculars. “You… you saved Agent Bravo, right?”

“Agent Oscar too,” you pointed out, sparing him a glance. “Before the enemy fired and we lost Oscar. He wasn’t in the best state anyway- I think he lost his leg.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think they do to you when they capture you, Major?” You asked, not waiting for his response as you guided Team 3 to switch buildings. “Agent Oscar was unfortunate enough to be questioned by the enemy. They were getting answers out of him when we arrived- Major Choi and I.”

“I… I did not know that,” Major Yeom sighed.

“Team 3?” You called into the radio. “I think you have a tail.”

“Shall we split?” Major CJ asked.

“No, it’s better to stick together,” you answered, asking Major Yeom to guide Team 3 to the North Exit or steer them towards the West Exit while you went to the other corner of the room and took out the radio meant for you and the Sergeant only.

“Sergeant?”

“I’m here,” Sergeant Kim sounded grim already. “Team 3 has a tail?”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked, making sure to keep your voice low.

“I’m going to inspect everyone who’s back. I don’t care anymore,” Sergeant Kim began but you bit your lips in thought.

“Wait- not yet,” you told him. “It would make it too obvious. Let’s wait until we get back and we’ll see what we have to do.”

Sergeant Kim did not respond for a few seconds but then he gave you an okay and you went back to join Major Yeom. The Team was being guided to the North Exit now and you resorted to watching Major Yeom plan out a new route. You occasionally quipped in and it took another half an hour for Team 3 to make a safe exit at north and you finally sat down and drank water.

“Good job, Major,” you said and he passed a smile, nodding. “I’m wondering why they were being tailed. Nobody spotted them during the mission.”

“Maybe they watched and decided to confront them later,” Major Yeom shrugged and you agreed, though you highly doubted that. You both packed your gear and started to exit out of the building, going inside the basement and walking in silence along the path that connected to a building right outside the West Exit. Bumping fists with the Major after making it through, you walked to your car where Sergeant Kim awaited, looking-

“Very grumpy. You’re making it too obvious.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “There is a rat in our base who knew we were going to be here today. Who knew exactly what our plan was.”

“Let’s talk about it when we get back,” you whispered, patting his arm and going to Major Choi who was waving at you, looking rather cheerful.

“What’s got you in a good mood today?”

“Ask her,” San pointed at Major Yu who was in a heated discussion with Major Kang. You stood next to San, listening to their discussion and smacking San’s thigh when he tried holding your hand.

“-so I asked my husband if he could really get me some tickets to the festival. And he’s such a sweetheart- it was tough but he managed to get exactly 7 tickets for the 7 of us!” Major Yu grinned. “So we’re scheduling our vacation next month and all going to Sector 6. I don’t care if you have to go see your families or friends- you all are coming with me to Sector 6 first before you go home.”

Major Kang got up and saluted her dramatically, making everyone laugh. You looked at San who already had a shit-eating grin on his face. You leaned closer, “I know what’s going on in your head right now. Cleanse your brain.”

“Not a chance,” he blew a kiss and you swatted it, making a face, Major Kang noticing and pretending to throw up. Sergeant Kim ordered everyone to get inside the car and you began your way back to the base. During the ride, you kept replaying the events of this mission in your head, wondering how the enemy knew exactly where Team 3 was. There had to be someone who told the enemy about the mission and you felt nauseous at the thought that it could be someone you knew.

You met up with Major CJ and Major Han when you got back to the base and found them just as confused as you. Sergeant Kim was wise enough to not let the confusion spread any further, calling them in his office for individual reports. Meanwhile, San and you casually moved to a corner and he asked you what was up.

“Our mission almost got compromised today, San,” you admitted and he frowned. “Team 3 got a tail right when they were about to exit- we had to reroute them. Someone knew Team 3’s exact location, our routes, our exit points. We’ve been compromised, San. And I’m wondering how long this has been going- if we really could have saved more people had we found out earlier.”

San pursed his lips in thought. “Does Sergeant Kim know?”

“Yeah, he caught on just as I did,” you nodded. “We need to do something about this before they retaliate, the enemy. Because if they’ve been gathering information so far… I think they’ll strike soon, and it’s making me so worried-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” San came forward and wrapped you in a hug, not caring if anyone saw. You didn’t care either, simply relaxing in his arms. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? I think today’s mission might have narrowed our suspect list- this mission was supposed to be known only to a selected few.”

“I hope so,” you drew back.

“Let’s go eat dinner before Sergeant Kim calls for us,” San suggested and you agreed, not really talking much and San let you sort your thoughts out while you ate. It was the Sergeant himself who found you both in the dining hall and the three of you decided to go to your room.

Sergeant Kim looked around a bit before settling on the couch beside San who had already made himself home on the other end. Sergeant Kim narrowed his eyes at him, “You look too comfortable here.”

“Ah, it must be your first time here, huh?” San scoffed. “Welcome to Mr. and Mrs. Choi’s residence-”

“What did you gather from Team 3’s report?” You interrupted, having brought the documents Sergeant Kim had handed you a few days earlier and joining the two, dragging a chair to sit across them.

“Nothing much,” the Sergeant replied and you noticed San sulking at the way the two of you had ignored him completely. You shrugged at him as if to say ‘did you expect anything else?’. “They are pretty sure no one spotted them during the mission. Did you see anything suspicious while you kept watch?”

“Nothing until Team 3’s exit,” you told him. “The guards started moving towards where they were all of a sudden as if they knew. Major Yeom guided the team out for the most part.”

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Sergeant Kim started spreading the pages on the table while he continued. “I don’t think there’s a pattern yet, but I think it’s safe to say that if there’s a rat and they’ve been watching our movements, they’re done simply watching. They’re retaliating. And we know that because in the past 4 months, our success rate has significantly dropped- and I’m not talking about the book definition of success.”

“You’re talking about the agents we’ve lost,” San said.

“That’s right,” the Sergeant nodded. “What do you think?”

You took a deep breath. “With both these missions, we were compromised on one of the routes known only within the base, right? With Squad 7 guiding us back at the base, and the rest of us in the field. Can we narrow it down somehow?”

“I have a feeling today didn’t go like they expected,” Sergeant Kim admitted. “If they tailed Team 3, they must have tried to accomplish something, right? What did they get accomplished though? Nothing. I think today is the first time they failed. In which case…”

“In which case they might retaliate,” you completed and he nodded, grim. “What changed today?”

“We can omit Squad 5 from the list of suspects, I think,” he answered. “That leaves us with our squad and Squad 6. I don’t think we should suspect Squad 7- if there’s a rat in there, they would find out themselves. It’s not like they were guiding us today either.”

“I really don’t think it’s someone from our squad,” San quipped in and you agreed.

“Squad 6, huh?” Sergeant Kim looked at the pages spread across the table- information of the current and former members of the squad. He picked Major Yeom’s page to get a closer look. “Did he know you were joining him today? At the station?”

“It was a last minute thing for me too, no one did,” you told him. “Do you think Major Yeom could be the rat?”

“Even if he is… who is he reporting to? Is it someone in the base or someone outside?” Sergeant Kim sighed. “And can we really suspect Major Yeom? What about the others? One of them made a pretty stupid mistake in our previous mission, if I recall.”

“Plus, Major Yeom is the one who eventually guided Team 3 safely outside,” you glanced at San. “You’re friends with a few from Squad 6, right? Anyone exhibiting strange behaviour after our previous mission?”

“Not really, no,” San shook his head, leaning forward. “I don’t think us sitting and drawing conclusions like this will yield any results. We need to conduct a proper investigation into this before something worse happens. We should alert the Lieutenant.”

“I would have alerted him already had I secured some solid evidence. There’s no pattern yet and we’re trusting our guts. As much as I trust my gut and you both, I can’t simply go with that to the Lieutenant,” Sergeant Kim sighed loudly before slumping back and you made a face.

“We have to follow protocol, huh?” San sighed too.

“The protocol sucks,” you groaned. “I’ll conduct my own investigation. Major Yeom did not know what state Agent Oscar had been in when we retrieved him- before we lost him. Why was he not aware? Do the rest know?”

“My job was to convey information to Sergeant Park,” Sergeant Kim raised a brow as he thought. “I don’t think he did that on purpose though.

“Ah. I forgot Sergeant Park is literally your best friend-”

“No, that’s not it,” Sergeant Kim laughed. “He must have told them that Oscar was held hostage and questioned before you retrieved him. Maybe he didn’t go into the details.”

“Maybe Major Yeom lied,” San pouted. “I trust Sergeant Park for some reason.”

“You trust everyone,” you retorted and San sulked further, sinking down into the couch. “Come on, Sergeant, we need to make a decision.”

“Let’s start with Squad 6- I’ll talk with Sergeant Park,” he decided. “He must be suspicious too with how things have been recently. But you two… try not to make it too obvious, okay?”

You and San burst into a chorus of ‘as if’ and ‘you’re the most obvious one’ and Sergeant Kim decided to see himself out. You started gathering the documents, glancing once more at Major Yeom’s file. San gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze and you decided to trust your captain, relaxing into San’s touch.

—-------------------------

The sound of the alarm ringing loudly enough to wake the dead up had to be the most horrible sound you had ever heard in your life.

It had only played once before and it was a memory you wished you would forget- even now, for a few moments, you remained in your bed blinking and wondering if you were dreaming. It wasn’t until you heard the radio announcement that you got up abruptly and moved to grab your bulletproof vest and jacket, grabbing every weapon you had in your room, because-

The base was under attack.

It had only been a mere two days since your last mission, since Sergeant Kim and Park started investigating their squad members in secret. You wondered if it was somehow linked to their investigation- it had to be. As soon as you were prepared, you went outside, greeted by the rush of soldiers donning their jackets or loading their weapons. Amidst all the chaos, you spotted San and rushed towards him, holding his hand and squeezing it.

“Oh, you’re here,” he gave you a brief hug. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah, we need to find Sergeant Kim or Sergeant Park,” you said and he nodded, looking around once and dragging you into a corner.

“Listen- I just asked and it’s not looking good. The enemy chose a direct attack this time and the Left Wing is compromised already. How’s your leg?”

“It’s good, San, don’t worry,” you assured him, and it was the truth. “There was a reason I joined the previous mission. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I can’t help it,” he smiled, kissing your forehead. “Let’s go then. We have no time to waste.”

You nodded and the two of you started asking around for Sergeant Kim, knowing he wouldn’t be in his office but out fighting. Major Han spotted you both and dragged you to the weapons room-

“I’ve been charged with making sure you gear up like proper soldiers, and for exactly this reason,” she shook her head at the lack of helmet and equipment. “Sergeant Kim has put me in charge of leading our squad in his absence, so turn on your radios and follow me. The rest are waiting with him.”

You and San stifled your scoffs and wore the helmets, Major Han slapping you both on the neck and checking your gear, inquiring about your leg. She sighed, “We’ve already reported three casualties on the Left Wing. We will be in charge of driving them out, understood? Follow me.”

Your blood boiled at the number and you gripped your sniper as you made way to the Right Wing- the exit that your squad frequently used. As you reached closer, the sound of gunshots and soldiers shouting got louder. You spotted your members and Squad 6 ready and waiting, the Sergeants in a corner talking in hushed voices. As soon as Sergeant Kim spotted you both, he signalled and you both joined him.

“We’re waiting for orders from the Lieutenant before we go to help at the Left Wing- but I’m going to task you both for another mission. Sergeant Park?”

Sergeant Park nodded. “Major Yeom is missing. We have high suspicions to believe that he is the one who has been updating the enemy. He must have left earlier to either join them or hide. I need you both to find him and bring him back alive, is that understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant!” you both nodded.

“I’m not entrusting my squad because of obvious reasons and sympathy factor, but Sergeant Kim here says you both are perfect for the job. Prove it.”

“And please stay safe, both of you,” Sergeant Kim huffed. “Don’t give me another heart attack. My lifespan has already decreased a good amount thanks to the two of you.”

San stifled a grin and you asked, “Do you have any suspects for who exactly Major Yeom might be providing information too? Or did you ever find out information on the man with the tattoo?” You recalled the man you had encountered while saving Agent Oscar.

“We believe it might be a group within the enemy, one specified to be spies,” Sergeant Kim said. “We haven’t seen it before, so we can’t say much. It’s only speculation.”

“Understood. We’ll take our leave then,” you said and the Sergeants nodded, making sure you had enough weapons before instructing you to find Squad 4 in the control room and start from there. You stayed on your toes the entire time, scanning everyone who crossed your path, looking for signs of anything suspicious because if Major Yeom had defected…

There could very well be others.

You reached the control room and the Sergeant let you in, already having heard from Sergeant Kim and Park. He guided you both to the CCTVs and you got a good look at what was going on- the soldiers were still fighting against the enemy at the Left Wing and the enemy was trying to push its way inside or circle around to the Right Wing. It looked ugly. San went to monitor what was happening inside and for a while you both stood observing the base until San spotted a few of the enemy soldiers squeezing their way inside. The Sergeant immediately alerted Squad 5 to take care of it and you both decided to check the unmonitored rooms for Major Yeom.

“Shall we check the basement first? Or keep it for the end?” You asked.

“The basement can be accessed from outside too, right?” San asked, pausing to think. “Shall we look at the dorms first? Divide and conquer?”

“Sure,” you nodded, getting anxious. You were short on time- you needed to join your squad back at the Right Wing too. “Check the dorms first, meet outside. And then the offices, the weapon rooms, and let’s go to the basement together after?”

“Sure. you take the offices, I’ll take the weapon rooms,” San said and you both agreed, splitting immediately after connecting your radios.

About an hour passed by as you checked each level, meeting by the staircase with a confirmation of ‘all clear’. You found nothing and San informed Sergeant Kim about going to check the basement. Sergeant Kim told him to make it quick and meet him at the Right Wing.

As the two of you descended into the eerie silence of the basement, a part of you wondered if this search was just a waste of time- why would Major Yeom be in the basement? He could have exited amidst this chaos at any time- or done whatever he needed to. The basement only contained storage rooms with the archives and some exit routes- but exit routes were more easily accessible on the ground level, so why would the enemy be there?

“You take the right side, I’ll take the left,” San said when you reached down. You nodded and patted his arm before parting ways, aiming your gun as you started checking the rooms- empty, empty, yet another empty room-

And then the sound of footsteps that did not belong to San.

You hid behind a shelf, trying to calculate the distance- it seemed like the person was going further away from you. You dared to take a peak and frowned at the sight of someone in the same uniform as yours, walking at high alert with their gun aimed and ready-

It was Squad 6’s badge. It had to be Major Yeom.

You started following him silently, not even daring to breathe any louder than necessary, and when the Major went inside one of the rooms, you quickened your pace and took a look inside that room-

He was alone and it looked like he was looking for something. He was searching through the files- for what?

You took a deep breath and entered the room with your gun pointed at the Major. “Hands up, drop your weapons, now.”

The Major froze, glancing at you once, not daring to turn. “Major Seo. I can explain-”

“Drop your weapons, now,” you seethed, stepping closer as he dropped his gun to the ground, the metal meeting the floor with a clang. You buried the muzzle of your gun in his back before ordering him to exit the room. The Major knew better than to disobey you and took slow and steady footsteps as per your instructions until you had him pinned to the wall so you could signal San.

“Charlie, I’ve got the mole,” you said into the radio, waiting for a response but when 10 seconds passed and you got none, you grabbed the Major’s collar and started steering him to the direction San had gone into earlier.

“Charlie? I need a response,” you called, panic starting to bubble in your heart. “Charlie, this is Echo, can you hear me?”

You wondered if his silence was because he found something or was in a situation where he needed to be silent- you simply prayed it was only that. However, having scoured the basement and finding no signs of San, you slammed the Major against the wall and dug your gun in his back. “Who was with you here?”

“No one-”

“Choose your answer carefully, I will not hesitate to shoot you down,” you warned and the Major scoffed.

“I bet Sergeant Park wants me back alive.”

“He never said anything about you being unharmed, though,” you started dragging your gun down his thigh and Major Yeom groaned.

“Fine, there is someone. You should check the exit.”

“Take the lead,” you gave him space to walk, still holding him by his collar as he led you to the room at the other end of the basement- a storage room with one of its bookshelves now pushed away from the wall, behind which a door was slightly ajar.

“What were you trying to find in the archives?” You asked, nudging him to go ahead inside the passage.

“I don’t know-”

“Like hell you don’t,” you entered the path, the smell of damp mud hitting you right away and you turned on the light on your helmet.

“I was only instructed to retrieve a specific document, which wasn’t even present there,” Major Yeom clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Look, I’ve got nothing against you- I know you’re following orders. But you really shouldn’t go to the end of this path.”

You didn’t stop walking. “I need to find Major Choi.”

“If he’s got Major Choi, you can forget about him-”

That was your last straw- you slammed the Major into the wall and dug your arm into his neck, your hand almost shaking as you pointed the gun at his temple. “Who?”

Major Yeom tried retaliating but you were quicker and you kicked his ankle harshly, effectively making him drop to his knees as you pointed your gun at his head. “I’ve had enough- your colleagues are dying out there fighting the enemy, Major Yeom. Just what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Are you sure they’re the enemy? Eden? We haven’t been saints either,” he scoffed, spitting on the ground. “You talk about principles and morals but where were your morals when you abandoned your colleagues when some mission went wrong, huh?”

Your heart sank. “If this is about Oscar, I did not abandon him-”

“Not him,” he shook his head. “The others. You and Major Choi… you go back for each other, disobeying every protocol and you get an applause. Why did no one go back for Major Lee?”

You frowned. “I’m pretty sure Sergeant Park eventually went back for him. As for Major Choi and I… you don’t know anything.”

“Sergeant Park never went back for him- or if he did, he didn’t try hard enough. Do you have any idea what they did to Major Lee?”

“Major Lee is dead,” you almost cried. “Forget about the past- why are you doing this now, huh? Who’s ordering you?”

“He’s not dead-”

“Stand back and drop your weapons, now.”

You froze- how did you not hear someone coming when even your hushed voices were echoing? Was the person already present and listening to your conversation? With the feeling of dread clouding your mind, you took a step back from Major Yeom and glanced up-

To see a masked man holding San at gunpoint.

And fortunately enough, Major Yeom took your stepping back as a sign to stand up and you did the first thing you thought sensible- mirror that masked man and hold Major Yeom at gunpoint. Major Yeom groaned as the muzzle of your gun buried painfully in his temple but you ignored it and glared at the man, trying not to meet eyes with San.

“So you’re the one who’s been ordering Major Yeom around, huh?” You asked. “Let go of Major Choi and I’ll let go of your man.”

The man’s deep laugh echoed through the passage. “Not that simple. You will obey every order I give you or else your Major Choi won’t live to see the sunrise.”

Something shattered in you at that moment as you recalled San’s words- “I wish to see the rest of my sunrises with you”. You finally dared to look at San, now rid of his helmet with a few bruises across his face. He shook his head subtly as if to say ‘do what you’re being told’ but you remained frozen in your spot.

“Take off your helmet. Let me see who you are,” the man ordered. You kept ahold of Major Yeom and removed your helmet, your jaw clenched painfully. You aimed the gun back at the Major and the man shook his head.

“Drop your weapon and step away from him, Major Seo.”

Once again, you were surprised- just who was he? He must have seen the confusion on your face and he finally removed his mask-

It was Major Lee.

“Why?” was all you could ask. Major Lee only shook his head.

“You will not understand how it is like to be abandoned by your own people. And for what? For nothing,” he tsk-ed. “Do you remember that mission, Major? Do you remember how we marched into the enemy territory because we were going to retrieve stolen data? There was no stolen data,-”

“Major Lee, please listen to me,” you pleaded. “We’re soldiers. We obey orders. It is not our duty to question it- we’re only given orders. We don’t even know what we retrieve, you may be right, but… if you have a problem with it, you should take it to the Headquarters or I don’t know… the General, the higher-ups, anyone but us. So please let go of Major Choi, at least. Your fight is not with us.”

“You will let go of Major Yeom and step back,” his voice was cold and you shut your eyes in defeat. “And then I will decide what to do with Major Choi.”

“Major Lee-”

“Now!” He hit San with the grip of his gun on his forehead, instantly making you drop your gun with an ‘okay, okay!’ and you took a few steps back until Major Lee grunted in approval. “Kneel and face backwards.”

“Please let go of Major Choi-”

“Don’t make me do something you will regret,” he warned. “I will let go of him, but not right now. Kneel and face backwards- and you will count 100 seconds before you take one step. If I hear you, he dies, understood?”

You nodded through tears, looking at San once who only passed you a reassuring smile. You did as you were told and counted 1, hearing the footsteps fade and by the time you counted to 100, you had stopped sobbing and instead, anger- hot, boiling hot anger clouded all sense of rationality. You stood up and grabbed your gun and began running towards where they had taken Major Choi, praying he was okay all the while. But you reached the end of the passage which exited near the Right Wing and found no signs of Major Yeom and Major Lee.

No signs of Choi San.

You took a deep breath, surveying the area- you could hear the sounds of a fight to your left so you reckoned Major Lee must have avoided that and gone in the opposite direction. You started marching to your right, taking out the radio that connected you to Sergeant Kim.

“Alpha, this is Echo, please respond. Alpha?”

You continued treading along the building for a few seconds which was when your radio sounded. “Alpha responding.”

“The mole and the rat have escaped with Charlie. I am going to retrieve Charlie. Awaiting no further orders.”

“Echo, halt where you are. I will join you-”

“I do not have the time, Sergeant,” you seethed into the radio, ditching all formalities. “They took him, okay? Major Lee took him and he feels betrayed by all of us. I don’t know what he will do to him, I need to save him.”

There was a few seconds of silence and you spotted movement towards the gate- two or three figures. It had to be them. You started running towards them, hearing the sound of a jeep in the distance and you ran faster, trying to make it in time but you would never make it- you took off the sniper from your shoulder and started shooting towards the men getting in the car but it was no use- you were too far away. The jeep took off, leaving you all alone in the middle of the abandoned post and you fell to your knees, trying to control your unsteady breathing and shake off the ringing in your ears realising later that Sergeant Kim was repeatedly calling your name into the radio.

“They got away,” you breathed, unable to control your sobs this time. “They’ve taken him.”

“Where are you?”

“The abandoned post,” you looked around. “I need to go-”

“Stay where you are,” he ordered. “I’m coming to get you. The fight is almost over anyway.”

You buried your head in your arms as you knelt on the ground, your mind already hyperfunctioning as it planned all possible routes they could have taken, all possible spots they could be going to. All you knew was you would have to go to Eden all alone and retrieve him at all costs. But you couldn’t help the fear and the dread, because something like this had never happened- not to him, at least. You had been taken by force once and San had disobeyed all orders and marched into the enemy territory to retrieve you-

And you would do the same for him.

You did not realise how long you spent kneeling and planning through the utter pain of processing just what happened and the fear for San’s life when you heard a number of footsteps and you finally looked up to see not only Sergeant Kim but Major CJ and Major Yu.

“Oh, dear,” Major Yu shook her head at your state and knelt down, enveloping you in a hug. “It’s going to be okay. We will go back for him, okay?”

You nodded, breaking away and looking at Sergeant Kim who looked like he could pass out right there. “It’s Major Lee- I spotted his tattoo too, on the wrist. He’s the one who’s been sabotaging our missions, and I don’t know what he’s planning to do now. He said something about how our missions are baseless or something, I don’t know,” you sighed. “He has a problem with how things are being run. And now he’s taking it out on us.”

“I have a problem with how things are run here too,” Sergeant Kim sounded pissed. “But that does not mean I betray my people and side with the enemy for some petty revenge- even if something happens. We will go back for Major Choi, okay? But first you need to come back and plan-”

“I have no time to waste,” you shook your head fiercely. “You can join me later or not at all, for all I care, but I am leaving right now. I just need more weapons and I’m good-”

“Major Seo-”

“I cannot let anything happen to him!” You almost shouted, looking at Major Yu or Major CJ for help- surely they understood. “I finally, finally learned to live with myself and learned to function like a normal human being, I…” you breathed. “You know me, Sergeant. You know that I cannot live without him- I- “ you laughed at the irony of the situation. “I swore to never be like my mother but here I am.”

Major CJ turned as if to process what was happening and realisation dawned on Major Yu’s face. Sergeant Kim knelt down next to you. “You’re the strongest person I know here, Major. But please, think with your head for once. Come back with me, gear up properly, plan this and then leave-”

“You can do all of that and join me later,” you gave the final verdict. “I am leaving right now- keep me updated on the radio. And give me all of your bullets and weapons, dammit.”

Major CJ sighed. “Let me come with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Sergeant Kim groaned. “You think I don’t want to save him? I have to follow protocol- I cannot allow two of you to disappear-”

“It doesn’t matter anymore- someone needs to keep her grounded, and I can do that,” Major CJ offered you a hand and you smiled, taking it. “You can both give us your weapons and go back to the base, prepare and follow us right after. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

Sergeant Kim considered for a few seconds before finally giving in, taking out his guns and daggers and Major Yu did the same. You both docked yourselves up and made sure everything was working.

“This is the last time I’m allowing this,” Sergeant Kim warned and you rolled your eyes. “Bring that brat back. And both of you… don’t get hurt. That is an order- come back alive.”

“Yes, Sergeant!” You both saluted and he told you both to hurry on, calling in the radio to order a car for you two. You looked ahead at the horizon, the sky already starting to lighten.

You prayed you would watch the sunrise once again and got in the car.

—---------------------------

Major CJ was proving to be quite the strategist. He was keeping the mood light, probably because you appeared tense enough to make up for him too, and you had to stop and appreciate him at one point, which he just shyly dismissed.

“I really don’t think a defected soldier will have much influence around there, so if they allowed Major Lee in the enemy base in Sector 1… that’s the only place he might go if he’s still working with them. Even if he’s not, Sector 1 is a pretty good place to start-”

“Stop calling him ‘Major’,” you growled. “Call him the motherfu-”

“-until we get some visual or locate Major Choi by some miracle,” Major CJ finished saying. “And stop being angry- it’s only going to cloud your decisions.”

“Oh no, not me,” you scoffed. “Anger fuels me and keeps me alive.”

“Whatever helps you,” Major CJ passed you a weird look.

You were both in Sector 1 now, going through the connected passages just like you had on your previous mission here. You could spot the enemy base now and you prayed Major CJ’s instinct was correct- San had to be there.

“Do you think we should negotiate with Major Lee or just… go berserk?” Major CJ asked and when the radio responded before you, you realised he had asked the Sergeant too.

“Let Major Seo do whatever she wishes,” the Sergeant sighed loudly. “I’ll leave my post once she’s back. She should be the Sergeant since she can make all her decisions herself now-”

“Oh, please, I would not have waited for you back there if that was the case,” you muttered. “Don’t fuel me any further right now, Captain.”

“Whatever. Try to negotiate first and see if you can get him to come back.”

“Permission to shoot otherwise? If things don’t look bright?”

“In case he tries to harm any of you, permission to shoot is granted,” Sergeant Park’s voice sounded. “For Major Yeom too. He is a defected soldier- his case must be handled differently from Major Lee because we thought him dead.”

“Copy that,” Major CJ responded. “Stepping within a 2 mile radius into the enemy base… now.”

You took the lead, Major CJ providing cover and you couldn’t help but be reminded of San. Gritting your teeth and steeling your nerves, you loaded your guns and went into stealth mode-

And all hell went loose.

Major CJ was strong in every sense- he naturally took the lead as you eliminated guard after guard, forcing your way inside through a back door. And unsurprisingly, Major CJ was depending on his fists more in close combat and you would finish it off with bullets. You wondered if you two were syncing better because you were both fueled with the same purpose- to retrieve Major Choi.

“To the basement,” you motioned towards the stairs. “They keep the hostages there unless they’re being questioned.”

“They should have changed locations by now,” Major CJ flexed his arms, having suffocated one of the soldiers. “If Major Lee is in there… he’s pretty fucking stupid.”

You grinned, covering for him as you both went downstairs, this time shelling the guards first before gunning them down. You told Major CJ to hold his own while you checked the rooms, finding one empty room after another-

Nothing. He wasn’t in the basement.

With pure adrenaline fuelling you now, you lead Major CJ upstairs to the same level you had found Agent Oscar on, shooting in succession at anyone who dared to cross your path, not caring if you hit a vital spot anymore- they had done enough damage tonight too. You hurried along the corridor towards the rooms at the end and spotted San tied to a chair, his head hanging down. You almost stepped inside the room but paused-

There had to be someone else in the room.

You glanced at Major CJ and nodded before pushing the door open with your foot and as soon as you spotted movement against the wall, you pointed your gun in that direction and shot at the lower region, successfully hitting Major Yeom in the thigh who shot reflexively at you in return but he was slower- you kicked his gun away and held him at gunpoint once again.

“That was quick,” he seethed through the pain.

“You took my partner, of course I was quick,” you hit his head with the grip of your gun, making him groan louder. “Where’s that bastard?”

“He knew you would come here,” Major Yeom spat. “He’s got plans for you-”

“Oh no, he hasn’t,” you grinned. “Major Lee got some abandonment issues, huh? He must have thought no one would come back for Major Choi. But did he ever think our squads would retaliate against his actions? Your colleagues will be joining soon, Major.”

Major Yeom paled. “They wouldn’t have allowed you to-”

“That’s the thing- Major Lee made it pretty clear what he was expecting, and all we had to do was the opposite. Sergeant Park is not pleased at two of his members defecting. You do know how he gets when he’s angry, right? He’s on his way here right now, so I’ll let him take care of you.”

Major CJ joined and told you that the rest of the members were already here. You allowed yourself to relax while he took care of Major Yeom and you walked to San, untying the ropes on his wrists and kissing his knuckles.

“Major Choi. Can you hear me?”

He did not respond. You figured he must have been drugged to unconsciousness. You held his face, tucking his hair back and examining the bruises there and then the rest of his body- at least he was unharmed. You bent down and with the help of Major CJ, you propped his body on your back, deciding to carry him out while Major CJ provided cover. A sense of relief started to wash over you as you made your way out, your members and Squad 6’s members passing smiles because as Sergeant Kim said when he joined you on this mission, some protocols really needed to change. It was high time and considering how Major Lee felt about his situation and Major Yeom joined him, they must have felt abandoned- perhaps for the right reasons. You had often felt that too, though you were lucky enough to have San as your partner who always had your back and broke protocols and disobeyed orders again and again for you. And the thought scared you- that if not for him, you might have turned into Major Lee too.

You exited the base and hopped into the car waiting for you, Major CJ helping you lay him down across the seat and you checked San’s pulse and monitored his breathing- he was okay.

Major CJ said he was going to help the rest and left you and San alone in the car. The adrenaline started to wear off and with trembling hands, you examined the rest of his body for any signs of injuries, finding none and relaxing once again, resting your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat while you waited for him to wake up. You shut your eyes, not sure if the sound in your ears was the sound of San’s heart or your own.

You didn’t realise how tired you were until you felt a hand caress your head, tucking your hair behind your ears. You found yourself unable to open your eyes, a stream of fresh tears falling down on San’s jacket. His warm fingers wiped the tears away, caressing your cheek softly.

“Won’t you look at me?”

You only buried your face in his chest, silently crying. San let you be for a few moments before he couldn’t take it anymore and nudged you to face him, seating himself up. You finally opened your eyes and let out a relieved laugh. San smiled in response, wiping your face with his sleeve.

“You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you cry.”

“I’m crying because of you,” you said, sniffing. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

“I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead, lingering. “I’m so sorry-”

“No, it’s not your fault,” you told him, cupping his face. “I’m just so glad that you’re okay, so glad,” you said, pecking his lips. “I was so scared-”

San captured your mouth in a kiss as a form of an apology and you took it, letting his hand guide you as he deepened the kiss. You fisted his shirt in one hand, the other finding his and intertwining with it. San broke away, your breaths lingering and you reached in to hug him, burying your face in the crook of his neck- your favourite spot. San caressed your back, holding you as close as he could.

“You came back for me, huh?” San shook his head at the insanity of it. “Do you realise just what you did? Did you march here alone?”

“I almost did, but CJ joined and then the rest did- even Squad 6,” you told him, breaking away so you could look at him. “Captain wouldn’t let me go alone.”

“He’s always like this,” San laughed. “But you- you shouldn’t have been so reckless-”

“Says who? At least I had the others join later. You marched into enemy base alone to get me back 3 years ago-”

“That was different-”

“Yes, but that was more reckless,” you slapped his arm. “And anyways, I would have done this for you. You know I would have come for you. It’s a miracle I found you this quick.”

San caressed your face. “Even if we were not… like this?”

“We’ve always been in love, though,” you said and San caught your confession in it. “And I have realised now… love is supposed to be a strength, not a weakness.”

San glanced outside, the sky glowing a beautiful pastel now and spotted the Sergeants collecting their members and arresting Major Lee and Major Yeom. When you counted the rest of your members, all safe and sound, you relaxed into San’s arms. The enemy was stupid to attack your base- of course you would have retaliated. San kissed your forehead. “We lived to see the sunrise yet again.”

“I wish to see the rest of my sunrises with you too,” you said and San smiled. You sealed that promise with a kiss.

To a better future.

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