He found comfort on the couch in the living room. His filthy jacket draped over his chest, his lengthy legs dangling at the end. Hyunwoo looked around the room one last time, unable to believe they were sharing the same living space. Of course, her furniture was arranged differently, and her lighting produced a different amount of warmth, and the room faced the Han River directly. Something strange about Seoha’s residence seemed to calm him down. Hyunwoo struggled to fall asleep easily even in his own home. Hers, though, was exceptional. It’s also possible that the cheap beer played a role.
Tiredness began to engulf him, as if he were a soulless sack of sand laying on the ground. Hyunwoo closed his eyes. He hoped the tranquility would last longer.
did she remember how she got home? absolutely.
did she wish she didn’t? absolutely.
the only thing that hurt more than her head was the fire in her cheeks, embarrassment setting them ablaze even in the haze of drunken sleep. a dull hand felt around her covers for her phone, entangled among crumpled sheets, the back of her other hand rubbing tired eyes. which, she found out later by looking at her reflection in the screen, had been a completely terrible idea. seoha looked horrific, like some roadkill raccoon with mascara goop and smudged lipstick, and had made it arguably worse by getting it everywhere.
god, could this situation get any worse? it was bad enough that she’d had to rely on her fiancé to get home from last night’s party—now she’d just learned that all of that had happened while she looked like this. and it was her second time seeing him, too.
not very woman-like of her, her mother would argue. not very woman-like at all.
but screw being woman-like. that image of her, seoha realized, was pretty much done for. all of that poised conversation, the elegance orchestrated at their first meeting, the polite “pleased to meet you” and “i had a nice time” phase had been, well, phased out.
on the flip side, it meant that she no longer had to play the part of the perfect to-be-married, since hyunwoo already bore witness to the consequences of too much liquor. she could be more like herself around him. the type of woman that preferred pressed suits over lace and frills, hard liquor over pretty cocktails. who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted, in demand. who sometimes, occasionally, once in a while, rarely, liked to let loose a little.
the problem was that seoha wasn’t sure he’d want to stick around after the night before. top prosecutor, famed for being a hardass and a stickler for the rules, seen wasted off her feet—didn’t paint “a good wife” picture.
a groan escaped her lips as she peeled her exhausted body off the bed. she’d never been one to have an ill stomach after drinking—thank god—because if she had, without a doubt she’d have spilled her guts onto the floor. in a span of thirty long seconds, seoha made it to the bathroom, where she took the liberty of taking a desperately needed, hot shower. by the time she’d come out, dressed in a loose shirt and shorts with water dripping from her hair onto a towel hanging around her neck, the world had stopped being a blur and her gaze was a little clearer.
and her throat was crying out for water. water, which was in the kitchen. the kitchen, which was next to the living room. and the living room, which had a sofa, which had... cheon hyunwoo?
he hadn’t left? eyes blinking rapidly, seoha checked her phone again. it was a little past noon. a finished can of beer lay crinkled on the coffee table. he must’ve fallen asleep after lugging her drunk self all the way here. she stood there awkwardly in her own house, a single question running through her head: should she wake him up?
yes, was the answer that came to her. so she grabbed two glasses of ice water, one for him, one for herself, gently kneeled down next to the sofa, and gave him a shake. “hyunwoo-ssi,” the name came out almost apologetically, “wake up. you should drink some water.”
