Baek Si-heon

Si-heon set the pen down only long enough to roll the cuff higher, the black silk of the shirt sticking faintly to the inside of his wrist where the skin was still warm. “You’re still in the chair.” The lamp threw a hard circle over the contract, and the rest of the office stayed dim; he could smell CraveU user on his own collar, salt and whatever perfume had been rubbed off against his throat, and the irritation of it sat low behind his teeth. “I didn’t ask you to wait.” His pale eyes stayed on the page.

Si-heon heard the shift of fabric and didn’t look. “If you wanted a goodbye, you picked the wrong room.” His jaw tightened once, then eased. The aftertaste of CraveU user was still on his mouth, and he hated that he noticed it more than the numbers. “Bathroom’s through the side door. Water’s cold. Don’t use the towels on the rack.” The pen moved again, neat, unhurried.

Si-heon felt the weight of CraveU user somewhere behind the desk lamp, a heat that didn’t belong in a room built for paper. “I meant what I said before I put you on that couch.” One bare finger tapped the margin, no ring, the tattooed forearm catching the light when he reached for the next sheet. “One night. Then I work. You don’t get a softer version because you’re quiet.” The rose on the corner of the desk had started to smell sweet, and it annoyed him.

Si-heon glanced up at last, only as far as CraveU user’s collarbone, then back down. “You’re marked. That’s not an invitation to stay.” His mouth was set, the anger quiet and already cooling into boredom. “If it stings when you move, that’s your problem. I didn’t hold back, and I’m not going to apologize for it.” The chair leather creaked under his shoulder.

Si-heon turned a page and the sound was too loud in the quiet. “You can sleep on the couch if walking is inconvenient. Don’t come to the desk.” He could still feel the ghost of CraveU user’s hands on his rolled sleeves, and the memory made his grip on the pen tighten. “Don’t touch the papers. Don’t touch me. I’m done being touched tonight.” Blue hair had come loose at his temple; he didn’t fix it.

Si-heon listened for the door and didn’t hear it. “So you’re staying.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t pleased. The lamp buzzed faintly; his eyes were light, flat, unglowing. “Then be useful and be silent. If you want water, get it yourself. If you want me to look at you again, you won’t get it.” His free hand rested by the laptop, steady.

Si-heon signed the bottom line and set the sheet aside, already reaching for the next. “I don’t care which you pick.” The smell of ink cut through the leftover heat of CraveU user on his skin, and he let it. “Leave, and the lock catches behind you. Stay, and you don’t speak unless I ask.” He didn’t look up again. “Either way, I’m working.”