Yejun leaned back against his chair, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. The rain poured outside his office window, almost a lulling tone as he hummed low in his chest. 

Evenings like this were more common than he liked to admit. The floor was emptying out around him, the soft clack of keyboard keys tapering into silence, one workstation at a time. Most of the editing team had left hours ago, and even the vending machine lights across the hall had dimmed into energy-saving mode. 

He rubbed his eyes, fingertips pressing against the line of tension that had been living in his forehead for most of the week. The manuscript on his screen still needed its final review. Four hundred and twenty-eight pages, translated from French, dense with cultural references and anachronistic idioms. Half of it had been a battle between his professional instincts and the translation team’s liberties.

Yejun had won, mostly. 

His phone buzzed on the desk, the sound oddly loud in the silence. He opened his eyes and glanced at the screen.

Jieun 🟢: Do you want a coffee? I’m heading out soon. 

Yejun rocked his head, considering if he wanted to take his girlfriend up on her offer. 

Yejun: Don’t worry about it, I won’t be here much longer. Don’t forget about tomorrow.

Jieun 🟢: Of course. You know I’ll make it worthwhile. 

Yejun smiled, a faint curve at the edge of his mouth, and set the phone down screen-first. He hadn’t been particularly attracted to Jieun when he chose her to be his alpha partner, but she had definitely grown on him over the past two years. She always knew how to make him feel special, and despite the fact they weren’t supposed to be having sex yet, she knew what she was doing with a beta like him.

“You’re still here?” 

Woojin’s familiar figure leaned against the corner of Yejun’s desk, casual in a way that only long-time friends could be. His tie hung loose around his neck, jacket folded over one arm, posture relaxed like he didn’t have anything pressing to get home to.

Yejun didn’t look up right away. He marked a margin note in the manuscript, making sure to highlight his notes in blue before glancing up. “Still chipping away.”

“You’ve been chipping for hours. Even your hair looks tired.”

Yejun huffed a soft breath, a smile tugging faintly at the corner of his mouth. “That’s helpful, thanks.”

Woojin moved a step closer, eyes scanning the mess Yejun called a desk. “Is this the French one with all the idioms no one understands unless they were raised on Parisian satire?”

“That’s the one.” Yejun nodded, leaning back in his chair again. “They translated this as ‘taking a cat to mass.’ I’ve stared at it for twenty minutes and still don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Probably something offensive to either cats or religion.” Woojin’s lips curved in a familiar, crooked smile. “Want me to stay? I can help break down a few more pages.”

“No, it’s fine. I need to do the last pass myself anyway.” Yejun sat back and ran a hand through his hair, then checked the time. “You should go. You volunteered to go to the early meeting with layouts tomorrow, right?”

“Blackmailed would be more accurate,” Woojin shrugged. “Just thought I’d check in on my best friend before heading out.”

Yejun glanced at him, then gave a small nod. “Thanks.”

“Don’t fall asleep in your chair again,”  Woojin offered a half-smile before pushing away from the desk. Yejun merely nodded as Woojin walked off, his footsteps soft against the carpet tiles as he disappeared down the corridor toward the elevators. The faint mechanical hum of the office resumed its place as the only company Yejun had, low and constant.

He exhaled, letting the silence settle again. The quiet didn’t bother him, not really. If anything, it gave his thoughts space to unwind. He stared at the manuscript, the words blurring together until the paragraphs no longer looked like language. Just shapes. 

With a sigh, he saved the file, then minimized the window, just for a moment. He stared out through the glass wall of his office, watching as the rain thickened into a steady curtain over the dark city. The glow of streetlamps haloed against the mist, refracted in puddles collecting along the edge of the building’s overhang.

The overhead lights dimmed on a motion sensor timer. Yejun didn’t bother to reset them. The soft glow of his monitor and the faint ambient light spilling in from the hallway were enough.

He reached for the mug next to his keyboard, only to find it cold. Again. There was a fine skin on the surface of the last inch of coffee, and he grimaced faintly before setting it aside. Instead, Yejun clicked the manuscript back open, eyes scanning the paragraph where he’d left off. Another idiom. This one was vaguely familiar, but the translator’s note made him cringe.

He corrected it, then reworded the sentence until it lost its stiffness, and only when he tried to reread it did he realize his vision was starting to blur. His body felt heavy. Too many late nights. Too many back-to-back deadlines. He let his head tip against the headrest of his chair, fingers still loosely resting on his keyboard.

Just for a second.

The hum of the office grew quieter as his mind began to drift. His limbs sank into the warmth of fatigue, the ambient sounds softening into something distant and underwater. His breathing evened out, the corner of his mouth still faintly curved in that half-thought smile he wore when no one was around to see it.

He didn’t hear the elevator return.

Didn’t register the soft click of shoes, not heels, but something quieter. Not the confident stride of Jieun’s walk, nor Woojin’s relaxed shuffle.

The motion sensors in the hallway flicked the lights back on.

The figure stepped into the office slowly, carefully. Whoever it was paused just past the threshold of Yejun’s door, but Yejun didn’t stir. One hand had slipped off the arm of the chair, resting palm-up against the side of his desk. His face had turned slightly toward the window, shadowed in the half-light.

A soft rustle of fabric, then a slow and careful motion. A jacket was laid across Yejun’s front, one side drawn up enough to cover his chest, the other folded down beside him to drape over his lap. The hand that had adjusted the jacket hesitated for a fraction of a second near his shoulder, fingers twitching like they meant to touch, then withdrew.

Instead, their hand drifted over to Yejun's cup of coffee. The old cup shimmered as fresh steam rose from the porcelain, the scent of fresh coffee filling the office as the brown liquid once again rose to the lip. They sighed with relief, glancing up as Yejun stirred slightly.

The figure stepped back into the hall and disappeared before the motion sensor lights began to dim again.