“Is this some kind of joke?” 

Park Chanyeol can feel a tightness in his chest as he takes a deep breath, silently turning as she flounces through the door, closing the door shut. 

Her voice rings of a song that he’d never heard her sing, on of detestation and betrayal of sorts. 

It’s sovereign. 

Her words are impatient.

“Get out.”

Her voice is austere and admonitory as she begins walking to the window, closing the blinds shut. He knows that she’s being cautious of her surroundings, maintaining a sense of professionalism in her countenance before she inhales, fingertips running through her thick hair out of frustration. 

“You have no business here, please get out of my office before I call security, Park Chanyeol. I would hate to see you being pulled away by police in the latest tabloids so please go.” 

It was the first time he’d ever been threatened by a person, yet alone by her. 

Her refusal to look at him makes him wonder about the authenticity of her words as he gets up from the chair, pointing to her spot behind the table. 

“I’ve paid for a consultation so please, can we talk?” He requests, “… I know you’re angry and me and it’s completely understandable but—”

“That’s not a luxury you get to decide,” she interrupts, arms crossed together, “… please leave, don’t make me ask again my tolerance is slipping, Chanyeol.”

Park Chaeyoung finally turns to him, her jaw tense as she takes off her blazer, allowing it to drape over the lounge chair like a cape of some sort. He knows it isn’t exactly the right time, but his eyes are moving of their own accord, scanning her from head to toe.

“You look good, Chaeyoung,” his words are a confession, “… I’ve missed you, so much.”

“I don’t want to see you,” she whispers, as she walks towards the door, “… don’t make me ask again, I don’t want you here.”

“Fifteen minutes of your time, please,” he pleads with urgency, “… please, let me make it up to you.” 

She hesitates. 

It’s hard for her to deny the urgency in his voice.

He knows because lines form between her brows, a gesture he recalls from the many times she’d did so when he beseeched her to lie to her parents about her location for him. 

“You can have three minutes,” she finally improvises, taking a few careful steps towards him, passing him to take the seat behind her desk, “… but honestly, nothing you say will change anything.”

“Chaeyoung, how could you suddenly open a firm out of nowhere?” He knows he’s wasting precious time, but it seemed to be a questio