a/n: done with finals but now bogged with grad applications and interns😭 big Sad! tip from a kinda senior college student: pls enjoy ur first two years🧎‍♀️

anyways rlly hyped for y'all to read this chap!!! 😘😘 (albeit a bit shorter one oops) ty for reading and commenting as always:) 😮‍💨

That night, Yerim was restless, turning and tossing with a fervor that didn't match her room's quiet darkness.

Part of her was occupied by her meeting with Thomas. The moment she saw him walk through the entrance, she was glad she had chosen a modern place to meet. With its gray, dark green, and brown furniture and decoration, his crispy shirt and even crispier pair of khaki pants fit right in. He greeted her with a firm handshake and also seemed to navigate the world with a positivity found only in golden retrievers.

Because of that, he was easy to talk to and naturally curious. At the same time, though, she wasn't sure if he was genuine or not.

When Yerim wasn't thinking about Thomas, she was thinking about Jungkook, to her dismay.

The man was relentless, both in how he ran the company and how he interacted with others, so she didn't think he was lying when he apologized. And she also didn't think he had said those criticisms all those years ago out of malicious intent. Admitting that, though, meant his question right before she had left was correct. Was it only his words? Even if he was her idol for a while, it wasn't like she knew him personally. Technically, he was a stranger. Maybe it was something else combined with him being her idol?

"Whatever," she muttered, mentally swatting away her thoughts.

To make matters worse, her nose was stuffy, and her head pounded. She hoped to all the gods out there that she wouldn't come down with a cold. With the two hours of sleep and maximum amount of stress she got last week, plus the rain and the accompanying shivering and sneezing, she wouldn't be surprised if she actually got sick. She couldn't afford it, though: her section had an important meeting this upcoming Tuesday.

Three days until her presentation.

She could make it.

Outside, the first bird started chirping.

Yerim groaned.

She had just unwillingly won the battle against sleep.

...

Three days later, Yerim didn't get better, but she also didn't stay the same.

"You are definitely not fine." Irene placed the back of his hand against Yerim's neck and immediately withdrew it with a yelp. "You're burning up."

Yerim swallowed against the mucus rising up her throat. "I'm fine."

Jimin shook his head, tsking. "You're literally croaking."

"I-" To her embarrassment, she had to clear her throat because she was, in fact, croaking. "-am not."

His eyebrows flew up. "And I saw your head bobbing up and down this morning."

Yerim closed her eyes, the light above her was too shiny and bright. It hurt her head. "I didn't get much sleep last night." She actually did, but it was a feverish sleep, full of sweat and shivers and nightmares of ghosts chasing her.

"I can tell Jungkook for you," Irene offered, placing a cup of hot water next to Yerim's resting head.

Yerim immediately sprung up, eyes widening and back stiffening. "No, it's fine."

"You can't even hold your head up. I don't think you're fine."

Swiftly shaking her head, she protested, "I'm being serious. I'm fine."

Jimin narrowed his eyes; even Irene, the more gentle one, copied his action, looking like a pissed off mother. "What's wrong?" Irene asked. "Are you scared of Jungkook? Did he do anything to you?"

In the past, Yerim would've shrugged and let their questions be; she hated him too much to defend him. For some reason though, now, her "no" was quick and firm.

Jimin's eyebrows flew up again.

"Well." Yerim coughed, sniffing at the same time. "He didn't do anything." She didn't know why she was so adamant against Irene informing Jungkook that she was sick. Maybe she didn't want to seem pathetic in front of him? Or maybe she didn't want to disappoint him? Or maybe despite everything, she was afraid Jungkook was tricking her? "I can't miss this presentation. Some pretty important people are coming."

"More important than your health?" Irene got out of her chair. "I don't think so."

Yerim scrambled up, ignoring the way her head pounded in protest, and grabbed Irene's hand. "Don't, please. The meeting will last two hours max. I can do it."

"Do what?"

All three of them froze, surprised by not only the sudden voice but also the very familiar deep quality to it.

Yerim's eyes shot to Jungkook, at his pressed suit, straight slacks, and heron ring that glittered under the light. She let go of Irene's hand and cleared her throat. "Hi," she said, cringing at how rough her voice sounded.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed immediately, looking exactly like how her friends were just a few minutes ago. "What happened to her?" he asked without taking his gaze off of her.

The next second was a blur of everything.

Yerim dived across the table to grab Irene's shoulder as Jimin sprinted the short distance to grab Yerim's wrist, firmly holding her within his embrace. As that happened, Irene said, "She's really sick and probably will faint if she goes through with her meeting."

Then, silence.

Well, except for Yerim's heavy breathing (she was more tired than she had expected).

The whole time, Jungkook glared at Yerim as if she murdered his dog.

Finally, he moved, striding to her like he was a man of vengeance. Trapped by Jimin's arms, she had no choice but to watch the force of him prowl towards her. (She could also admit that part of the reason she wasn't fighting was because in truth, she wasn't fine.) With how furious he looked, she was positive he was going to lecture her again.

"I'm fine," Yerim said, not even realizing that Jimin had released her, and she should've escaped. No, instead, she was too focused on Jungkook, his intense gaze, and the little frown on his mouth. It was a different look from that time when he said her portfolio needed more work. This was disappointment, this was anger, this was annoyance. Last time, it was just stern: firm but blank.

That meant Jungkook was telling the truth a few days ago, right?

"Come with me."

Yerim simply stared at him.

His voice was softer when he said, "I'll take care of you."

All rational thoughts fled her brain. Maybe this was another fever-induced dream, another potential nightmare.

Whatever it was, she dumbly nodded.

At her permission, the corner of his lips lifted a little. Closing the distance between him and her, Jungkook circled his hand around her wrist, grip gentle and cool against her burning skin. She only had a second to catch Jimin's and Irene's shit-eating grin before she was pulled out of the breakroom and down the hallway to stop next to the elevator.

As they waited for it to get to their floor, Yerim turned her head up to look at him. At his square-shaped jaw, his long eyelashes, and his angled cheekbones. He was all-

"Let's go," Jungkook interrupted, tugging at her arm and leading her into the empty space. That was good. She wouldn't know how to explain to her co-workers about this situation, about his hand slipping into her's. Rough skin sliding against her softer one. He pressed the number fifteen, not letting go of her hand.

"What about the meeting?" Yerim asked.

"I'll explain. They'll understand."

She coughed. "What if they don't?"

"They will." Jungkook said it with the certainty of a prophet.

Yerim nodded, too tired to argue. "How did you know I was in the breakroom?"

He glanced at her quickly before shrugging. "Multiple reasons."

"Tell me."

The elevator door opened again, and Jungkook pulled her out. At this point, with Yerim's weak legs and foggy brain, she was nothing but a piece of ribbon blowing in the air, being held to solid ground by Jungkook's firm grip.

He led them to his office. It wasn't until he got Yerim situated in an armchair that he released her hand. Kneeling down in front of her, he pushed her shoulders back so her body was comfortably embraced by the plushness of the cushion. "You were dozing off the whole morning, which I already thought was unusual. Then, you weren't preparing for the meeting like a maniac, which was also unusual." He took the pillow from the other armchair and put it on top of her like a blanket. "I had a quick break, so I decided to go down to investigate."

Yerim blamed her burning skin.

Her pillow trapping in more heat.

His body, which felt so warm against her legs.

But not his words.

His words definitely weren't the reason why she was melting, slowly falling into a spiraling hole, deeper and deeper.

"Sleep. I'll be back after the meeting."

Yerim nodded.

Not his words.

...

Yerim woke up to an empty office.

She looked at the clock on the wall, finding out that it was already 3:30. Since he still wasn't back, the meeting must've run overtime because she was sure that she had slept for at least two hours.

Yawning, she sat up and touched her sweaty forehead. Her fever had resided, but her throat and head still pounded and poked. Disorientated, she fumbled around for her phone, expecting it to be in her pocket. Instead, she found it laying on the coffee table in front of her, a sticky note with scrawling handwriting across the surface stuck onto the screen.

She grabbed it like she was picking up a bomb and read the message.

I tried waking you up, but you didn't stir. I'm out at another meeting, so I probably won't be there when you wake up. Go back home whenever you're ready. Don't come back until you have recovered. I left some money on the coffee table. Buy yourself some warm soup.

Also, write your number on a sticky note. Save mine, too.

Below that were nine digits.

Yerim blinked, positive that she had just been transported to another universe. She looked around, finally noticed the twenty dollar bill, which had fallen onto the ground, and frowned.

She should've been screaming and running at this point. Should've been hissing at herself for even sleeping in his office. Should've been shuddering from the feel of his hand nestled against her's.

Instead, grabbing the bill, Yerim stood up, stretched her body, and went to his desk. She ripped off a sticky note and clicked open a pen.

As she wrote down her number, she was reminded of a thought she had just a few hours ago before she was interrupted by the ding of the elevator.

Jungkook was all edges and straight lines, no corners and detours. Just two weeks ago, Yerim had found them to be harsh and rough.

Now, though, they were starting to look soft.