There’s only one thing that I hate more than Byun Baekhyun, and it was this godforsaken hangover. My mouth’s dry like I’d been taking shots of Listerine all night.

I chugged a liter of water, but even that amount doesn’t make me feel any better. My poor liver is probably as shriveled as a smoker’s lungs.

When I get to work, I realized that today is the day I actually have to follow the new desk assignment. Simon thought it was a good idea to put us in one office together with the bull excuse of budgeting and teamwork.

me. I would rather switch back to my old desk with everyone else. I don’t even care if I have to sit through Johnny’s snoring.

I swing the door open, the sunlight blinding me. It wasn’t doing my acute migraine very well, so I march to the window, pulling it shut.

“First day on the job, and you’ve already committed several minor offenses. An inability to knock, tardiness, and—”

I finally look at him. I give it five seconds before I plop down on my desk. “Shh,” I whisper, massaging my head as I lean back in my office chair.

Baekhyun scrutinizes my appearance. “Did you just ing shush me?”

“Yes, I resorted to treating you like a fifth-grader because it seems that’s where your maturity lies.”

“You’re a ing mess,” he snarks.

I nod, closing my eyes. “Any other interesting observations, Sherlock?”

“Christ,” he hisses. “You can be fired for this. I don’t care if you drink, but coming to work late with a hangover? You aren’t a ing intern.”

“I could give less of a , but please keep talking my ear off,” I murmur disinterestedly.

Baekhyun stays silent for a beat as if he needs to gather his sanity to speak to me. Good for me. Hearing his voice is like a terrible shrill in the midst of tranquility. “Is there a reason you’re so inebriated?”

“I’m not drunk, Byun.”

“Seeing that you can’t even handle sunlight makes me think otherwise.”

“Will you quit psychoanalyzing me?”

“Will you get your together?”

His retaliation irritates me, but my head hurts too much to care. All those shots of vodka are starting to curdle in my empty stomach.

On the bright side, I got some sleep last night without the self-blame and hatred that comes with it. On the other hand, I feel completely out of it like I’m a puppet being controlled by someone else. Am I having an out-of-body experience because it sure feels like it?

Nausea greets me as soon as my headache calms into a dull pain. I should’ve taken the day off. I wasn’t drunk or sober enough to deal with the person beside me. There’s a giant potted plant between us, but it’s not doing more than physical separation. I’d like to be separated mentally from him too.

The day drags on, and Baekhyun’s typing worsens my nausea. It makes me antsy because his typing is the equivalent of slamming on his keys. He types like someone’s holding a gun to his head. It’s so mechanical and meticulous.

I’m not sure when my interest in my work dissipates because I’ve found the task of watching him more fascinating. He has this constant frown on his face as he’s typing away. When he reads an email that angers him, his typing intensifies, and it’s like he fighting a mental battle not to go out there and kill someone.

I decide that it’s funny, but I catch myself before I smile. I’d never give him that.

There’s a knock on our office, and the door opens at Baekhyun’s behest. Simon peeks his head in with a smile. “It’s dark in here. Are you both vampires?”

I blink and realize that Baekhyun hasn’t opened the blinds. It confuses me. He’s being considerate? There’s actually a spot in his heart that’s humane?

I must’ve drunk until my neurons committed apoptosis. There is no way this is real.

Simon waves his hand. “Oh, I don’t really care. Whatever works. I guess. How’s the report going?”

I freeze. Report? There was a report? I focus past the mist in my brain enough to remember that today is Wednesday. On every other Wednesday, we do a basic rundown of the current authors our editors are working with, and we discuss timelines for the marketing team and publishing team.

Well. . I completely forgot about it.

“It’s going,” I answer, quickly opening PowerPoint.

Baekhyun glances at my computer screen, and the motherer rolls his eyes.

Simon glances between the two of us warily. “I’ll be on my way now. I hope to see some good work from you both.”

I’m not stupid. That was definitely a threat. Besides, why is Simon so concerned with us? Doesn’t he have other departments to worry about? The last time I checked, there was a fight that broke out in marketing a week ago.

I try to soothe my anxiety but I can’t. I ed up. I really did. I can’t focus as I work. I doubt that I can make it in time. Every time I check the clock, it seems to tick down so fast. In a blink of an eye, I only have fifteen minutes left.

I’m getting distracted by my emails. I have to sort them through, but I also have to finish this PPT. But I have to read through a stack of manuscripts too. Then, I have to call several authors and warn them about deadlines. My mind races. My skin heats. I scratch my scalp. It’s not enough. I scratch again and again and—

“It’s time to go,” Baekhyun announces, putting his computer to sleep. He grabs his personal laptop out of his bag. His eyes fall to my appearance. Not very flattering I assume.

I stare at him. He stares at me.

“Come on,” he urges, sounding annoyed.

I nod, exhaling shakily. I’m so ed. I save what I have and when I get up, I almost topple over. He jumps, catching me with ease. “Get off of me!”

Baekhyun immediately backs off, giving me a strange look. “I’m going to head down to the conference room. Go freshen up.”

I stare at him with wide eyes. It’s unnerving. The amount of thoughts that race through my head to a finish line that isn’t there. I’m getting overwhelmed again. . Did I take my medication this morning? No, I didn’t. I was late.

“Now. You have no time, cerise.”

I scurry off without another glance. My pulse is too fast. I slam the door to the last stall close and collapse on the toilet seat. I dial Irene who picks up on the third ring.

“I-I need help,” I gasp.

“Yun? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to take my medication,” I stutter. “I’m losing it.”

Irene insists, “no, you’re not. You’re perfectly fine. What do you see around you?”

“Around m-me? Grey walls. No—blue. And there’s a toilet paper dispenser.”

“Okay, good. You have a grasp of reality. What’s your first thought right now?”

“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I didn’t finish my report. People will see me as incompetent. I don’t want to be incompetent.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I don’t want Baekhyun to win.”

“Why?”

“Because if he wins, everything will be for naught. He can’t be chief editor. He doesn’t care about this position. He doesn’t need it. I need it.”

“Yun—“

“And what if he steals it from me? What if he charms Simon into giving him the position? Where will I be? His insubordinate? No, no, no, no, no—“

“Yun.” Irene’s thundering voice cuts through my rambling.

“What?”

“Take a deep breath right now. You need to clear your head. Your thoughts are not reality. They are just thoughts. Let them go.”

“I c-can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Think about what’s important. What’s your goal? Is it to become a chief editor?”

“No, I don’t care. I just like books,” I answer weakly.

“You don’t just like books, Yun. You love them.”

She’s right. I do. After my mother abandoned me, I needed some way to cope. Chanyeol and Dad seemed to have their lives together, and I was just so lonely. So, I bided my time in books. Books were an escape. They were the only things that filled the emptiness in my chest.

One novel became two. Two became three. Before I knew it, I was reading five novels a day. To the point that it became dangerous. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I didn’t go to the bathroom. I read until I passed out. Then, I did it again. I skipped school for two weeks until they called Dad.

My fixation was the compulsive component of OCD. People had plenty of misconceptions about the disorder. It didn’t make you a neat freak. It didn’t make me follow routines. OCD affected people in different ways. For me, it was those constant intrusive thoughts that filled my brain to the brim. It kept me up at night. I was always too overstimulated to sleep, so I obsessed over things to pass time. Reading. Internet surfing.

Prep school worsened it. Striving for valedictorian wasn’t easy. I did everything that I could. My compulsion to complete every task on my list overpowered my physiological needs. It wasn’t just homework anymore. I had to attend meetings for the nth club I was in. I had to attend conditioning and volleyball practice. I had track meets on the weekend. I played first violin for chamber orchestra, so I had to practice for hours on end.

I spent most nights, catching up on assignments. Sometimes, I would finish projects a week before they were due. I just needed it to be done. I wanted the anxiety to go away. But there was never enough time. Routinely, I had roughly two hours of sleep most nights.

My exhaustion and malnutrition finally caught up with me. I passed out in public for the first time, and it wounded me in the hospital. The doctors puzzled over me. I was so close to dying. They wanted to diagnose me with anorexia nervosa, but I didn’t have body dysmorphia. It was simply physiological neglect because I was obsessed with perfection. And when Dad found out, he blamed it on himself. I still can’t look at him because I did it to myself—yet he thinks that he’s somewhat at fault.

I still hate myself. I wonder why I worked so hard. But in the end, I knew why. It was to fill that emptiness. Irene may call Baekhyun my trigger because we competed academically, and he indirectly fueled my compulsions, but he wasn’t the only reason. I’d figured that it was the self-fulfilling prophecy that I chased after because maybe someone will finally look at me for once.

No. That didn’t happen. All it did was land me in the psych ward with a guilt-ridden Dad and an overprotective brother.

When I finally leave the bathroom, I brush back my disheveled hair. I reapply my lipstick. I tuck my shirt back in. I take a deep breath, and I remind myself why I’m here in the first place.

It wasn’t for the chief editor position. It was my love of books. I won’t let capitalism erse that.

I close the door to the conference room. The silence is awkward, and even the interns passing out coffees and snacks are staring at me.

I smile cordially, lying through my teeth, “sorry, I’m late. Aunt Flo decided to visit earlier than expected.”

Simon blinks at me for a second as he registers my word. “Well, I’d be doing god’s work if I could command your menstrual cycle, huh?”

I don’t show my discomfort. I take my seat next to Baekhyun. It wasn’t by choice. It was the only open seat.

“Simon, that seems hardly appropriate,” Baekhyun notes. I’m sure he didn’t do it for me. Every woman in the conference room seems to agree with his bare minimum statement.

Seulgi, our CFO, adds, “agreed. You’d do well if you were less of a ist pig.”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Kang. It was a joke.”

“No one laughed, Mcgrath,” she quirks. “At least make it tasteful.”

“What? You gonna call HR on me?” Simon challenges, his nostrils flaring. If someone can rile him up, it was surely Seulgi.

I’d already known Seulgi when she worked at LL. She resigned last year to work for FPP because of the pay raise. To her distaste, the two ended up merging anyway.

“No need. There’s enough on file to bury you under, you filthy bast—“

“Seulgi,” Baekhyun coughs out. “The meeting.”

She hastily turns to the intern who’s typing up the minutes. “Record any of the last five minutes. I dare you.”

The intern swallows, fearfully shaking his head.

Then, Simon clears his throat as if nothing’s happened. “Alright, lovelies. Let’s get this party started. What do we got, Park?” He directs his attention to me expectingly.

I swallow, my palms clamming up. . Okay. Well, I’ve never really winged anything before. Now sounds like a great time to start. I stand abruptly, but Baekhyun briskly pulls me down by my arm.

I yelp, preparing to question his sudden insanity, but he interrupts me, “I did the report.”

Simon watches the both of us with fox-like eyes. He fixes them on Baekhyun. “Okay.”

Maybe I never really knew Baekhyun at all because he’s surprisingly eloquent. He’s actually fantastic at his job. People are listening and chiming in at his timely pauses. I feel guilty because he hasn’t looked at me once. I must’ve really screwed up this time.

After the meeting resides, people begin to file out of the conference room. All but me and him. I’m not so sure what made me stay behind, but I do anyway.

I clear my throat, but he doesn’t let me speak as he barrels out, “don’t expect me to hold your hand. If you can’t handle the pressure, leave. I don’t need to lug dead weight on top of this indentured servitude.”

Any guilt suddenly whooshes out the window, and I stand my ground, anger blazing under my skin. “For your information, on the twelfth slide, it’s e-l-i-c-i-t and not i-l-l-i-c-i-t. The latter is an adjective. Illegal. Unlawful. Illegitimate. Easier synonyms for your pea brain to process. I apologize for having an off day, but I can’t say much for you considering that this is your every day.”

Then, I spin around and leave, letting him fume in solitude. This time, I smile so ing widely that it hurts.

Yun: 1

Baekhyun: 0

[a/n] third update in one day. im trying to type away any future writer's block. i'm like having a lot of fun writing this. hope you're enjoying!