Disturbing images still continuously replay in your mind and you can’t seem to get rid of them. Images of things that might or might not have happened last night play in a loop and you’d do anything for a drink so you can push them away.

You have been standing about 10 minutes outside the door of his room now, contemplating whether to or not to enter, and more importantly what to do. Are you doing to act like it never happened? Or should you just confront him directly about it. ‘Hello Mr. Do, why on earth did you kiss me yesterday and acted intimate? Since, well, I hate you and you hate me as well!’

Imagine how smooth that would go.

Your nails might become your lunch if you keep nibbling on them. Maybe you should have been an assistant of someone that was less a headache and confusion, it would make this situation you are in not as hard to face if just your working space wasn’t his home.

He probably has a hangover, a judgement that is totally based on the vague images you can recall. Entering the bedroom it confirms your speculation.

Wrapped up in blankets, with his head pushed into the huge pillows. An attempt at denying he looks like a mix between y, handsome and extremely cute would be futile. His hair is spread in different directions and he seems to be sleeping soundly.

You cough but he doesn’t seem to wake up, so you continue coughing but then a lot louder. Almost as if you have something huge stuck in your throat and he seems to hear as he opens his eyes they greet you with a glare, “Good morning, Mr. Do.”

His head finds the pillows again and he ignores you. Fine, if he is going to play dirty, you can too.

Walking over to the other side of the room you grab the fabric with a hand and start walking backwards, the more you walk the more light enters the room. When sun rays reach his eyes he opens them to peek and the brightness makes him hiss in annoyance, “What the hell is wrong with you. Do you want me to kill you, you crazy woman?!”

You clear your throat again, hug the binder between your arms tighter and put on your fake smile, “Good morning, Satan’s child.” Nope, woken up after a confusing day and he is still the same man. As if nothing happened. Somehow you had become so comfortable with your boss, and he with you, that he doesn’t even really care about your attitude. No, as long as you get the job done you are already better than many of his previous assistants.

He pulls the sheets over his head to cover himself from the light and speaks with a muffled voice, “You’d wish I was Satan’s child. I’m much worse, stupid assistant.”

“Perfect,” you walk towards him to remove the sheets forcefully from his face and give him that faked smile again, “I love a challenge, and you should be thankful. I am doing your boring work and all you need to do is sign this.”

He takes the pen to scribble his, even in sleepy state, perfect signature, “Is that all, oh mighty Queen? You know what? You should be my boss, you certainly behave like you are one sometimes!” Removing the sheet from himself to get up you move to face the other way.

He isn’t wearing anything except for underwear, fantastic.. “It’d be nice if you would wear some more clothes.”

You aren’t looking but you can just feel the smug look on his face as his words flow out, “Why? Are you shy?”

“I doubt that there is anything to be shy about.”

His voice still sounds sleepy and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s raspy, nothing like his usual voice and it really drives you insane how much it affects you as he whispers close to your ear. “Are you curious?”

“Just wear some damn clothes!” you hurry to the door and slam it shut, you can hear his laughter. Even though you have had so many benefits from doing this job, you now and then wonder why on earth you wanted to become the assistant of this squishy ball of frustration in the first place.

The moment he exits his room out you mentally prepare yourself again for any of his antics, he sits opposite from you in the black armchair and he immediately demands an ibuprofen, which you give to him nicely but honestly you wanted to spit into the water if he wasn’t your boss.

There is some awkwardness between you two as you try to read some new papers and he quietly sips his water, you can’t focus on whatever is written here. You keep taking secret glances at him, but he just sits there as if it’s just another ordinary day. Why is he so calm?

“I know you want to talk about it. So spill it.”

Resting everything on the table you look at him, but he doesn’t seem to really want to look back at you, “I think you should be the one talking, after all it is you who needs to do some explaining.”

“Let’s see.. we kissed and had a little fun,” you become slightly red when he says it that bluntly while shrugging his shoulders, “you didn’t seem to complain.”

You need to take notes on not accepting every drink Junmyeon offers you, you wanted to be polite but considering how drunk he was he probably wouldn’t remember you anyway.  Because this is what happens; the next day it all becomes a blurry vague memory. At least you didn’t wake up next to some stranger – or Kyungsoo. "And that doesn't seem.. weird to you? I am your assistant, you are my boss. Why did you.. do all of that? Doesn't it seem a little unprofessional as my employer?"

He sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing. This time he looks you in the eyes, “I want to make a bet with you.”

“A bet?” you ask him, and he slowly nods.

“Let’s play a game. Let’s hold hands, tell each other sappy things and do all of those things every couple does until one falls in love. It’ll be interesting and you might influence my next book. Might, that is. You aren’t that interesting but you’re useful – maybe.”

You lean back and cross your arms and legs, giving him a knowing look. This can’t be all, “it’s not that easy, right? There is more to why you want to do it, and I don’t see what is in it for me. I’m satisfied with being your assistant, though I might add-”

He cuts you off rudely knowing where the thing is going, “Okay, okay. I knew I didn’t hire a simple assistant, I have thought this through. I will get you to be the apprentice of that Chinese writer you like so much, Zhang Yixing.”

Your eyes widen and you ask him, “You’d do that for me?”

He is the most inspiring person you have ever seen, but he is a busy man and often just disappears for months to only find out he made a trip to write something new. You could learn so much from him.

“Yeah, he could teach you a thing or two. Unless he really doesn’t want to take you – which is understandable – then yes, I can do that, not with pleasure however. I can be very.. persuasive,” he smiles, “that. And god the guy is so annoying he thinks he is Ghandi or something so he’ll be happy and leave me alone for once. I'll do him a favor too since he wanted to have someone he could 'give his knowlegde to'." Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "The guy is a pain in the .”

You ignore all his insults toward your favourite author and accept the offer. “Yes! Definitely, please!” but there is something fishy about this.. ”and the punishment for the loser?”

He chuckles but tries to hold it in, “Don’t you think one falling in love with the other is already a very harsh punishment? ”

Oh you can’t imagine falling for this man, he can get on your nerves in just a second and you don’t really seem to be his favourite person either. “Accepted.”

He stands up and stops behind you, pushing your hair over your shoulder and whispers to you, “looking forward to it, angel.”

And with that he leaves the room, which makes you wonder.. did you just improve your experience..

Or did you just make a bet with the devil?