for remplissant
Title: Farewell, Libra
For: remplissant
Pairing: Jaehyo/Kyung
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,357
Summary: Jaehyo is waiting for his big break in the world of law administration, but he’s in no rush to meet his goal. He’s living comfortably at the edge of town, in a small office that doubles up as his home, and he can settle with being a public notary. This is no compromise,though, because Kyung, like Jaehyo, lives under the same circumstances. Life is sufficient; they have each other. But in lieu of a recent case, they can’t remain so indifferent about the matter, not when they’ll be the biggest threat to each other.
Jaehyo excels in interpreting local ordinances. His key to success, an observant eye. His expertise, though, lies in asset distribution and property protection. He dabbles into subjects that pique his interest, anything that is tangible and practical. He’s conditioned himself to process this kind of information. As a result, the perception of common sense eludes him. He can’t quantify, despite his range of knowledge, how taboo it must be to live under the same roof as the prosecutor who he will be going against.
The issue is insignificant. He’s more awed by the fact that a scandal hasn’t broken out yet. In the loosest terms, he’s in cahoots with his enemy.
But he prefers to refer to Kyung as his friend.
The situation screams fraud, but their lips are sealed. Besides, they have no plans on embezzling what isn’t righteously theirs.
As for the case itself, this is a first for the both of them. The lawsuit involves two spouses who are currently filing for divorce. This only serves to heighten the tension in the office and increase the stakes on both sides.
Jaehyo makes a gesture to Kyung to stop being so stingy with the coffee and pass it over.
“You aren’t peeking at my notes, are you?” Kyung asks.
As far as rhetorical questions go, Jaehyo prides himself in his integrity. The control he has over his actions says more about his character than, formally known as a degree, the sheet of paper hanging from his wall. Regardless, he indulges Kyung.
“Maybe just a little,” Jaehyo jokes. “I made sure to spike your coffee.”
“Isn’t that counterintuitive, informing me of your sinister plan and all?” Kyung asks. He gauges
Jaehyo’s nonverbal cues and plays nonchalant until Jaehyo is off guard. In one swift move, he locks Jaehyo under his arms. “Have a sip, would you?”
There’s no room for compromise in the offer, so Jaehyo takes a huge sip of the steaming brew. It hits his senses and sets his nerves ablaze. He’s done his homework, so staying up past his usual bedtime wouldn’t hurt. The same can’t be said for Kyung.
When Kyung lowers his defense, however, Jaehyo seizes the opportunity to jump Kyung, and the rest of the paperwork is left resting on the coffee table. He doesn’t play dirty, but Kyung is too easy to trick. Plus, he can’t let the moment slip away. Tomorrow, they are each other’s biggest threats. Today, they are Jaehyo and Kyung.
“Oh, look at you!” Kyung says. His tone is energetic. “How dashing.”
“Aren’t I always?” Jaehyo asks. The mirror is still foggy from Kyung’s shower, but Jaehyo can work around this minor inconvenience. After all, his priorities lie with the bigger case ahead.
“Should we leave separately or together?” Jaehyo asks. He knows the answer to this question, but a part of him insists on testing the waters. Professionalism ranks above their relationship. Neither of them can dismiss this principle, but Jaehyo enjoys the challenge of walking astray from convention.
“Well, you know me,” Kyung says. “I take forever. Plus, we can’t let the clients see us leaving from the same place.”
Kyung validates Jaehyo’s intuition. The refusal is out of the better good for the both of them, and Jaehyo can empathize. If relationships are built on sacrifice, he doesn’t feel like he’s giving up too much.
“Where’s my lucky tie?” Jaehyo asks. “The skinny black one?”
“Funny you should ask,” Kyung says, in between mouthfuls of toothpaste. “It’s in the washing machine.”
“I knew you were up to no good,” Jaehyo says. He tries for indignation, but Kyung can see past the act. “Now I’m going to lose the case.”
“Oh, don’t be so superstitious. You wrote a pretty good rebuttal, but you’re missing a few key points, if I do say so myself.”
“Get out,” Jaehyo says. Even with the tension so high, Jaehyo can still find a place in himself to joke around. And piggybacking off of Kyung’s tendency to dive at him with headlocks, Jaehyo returns the favor.
“Uncle,” Kyung says. “Uncle, uncle, uncle!”
“Good,” Jaehyo says. “I’ll leave first.”
“Fine, don’t wish me luck on the case,” Kyung says, but contrary to his words, he sends Jaehyo off. He corrects Jaehyo’s unruly collar, and his grip lingers. His expression falters, enough to convey a hint of unyielding determination, and he dismisses Jaehyo.
“Break a leg,” Jaehyo says. He raises his fist to bid Kyung good luck and then ventures off.
The staff prompts Jaehyo to sign in and proceeds with ushering him to the designated area. Jaehyo notes how automated the service is. It’s just as dull as the lobby’s gray walls. No splash of color to liven the place up. Figures, everyone who walks past the revolving doors is either spiteful over a dispute or drained from too many delayed hearings. This is the last place that anyone would want to be at. The court doesn’t even do them a disservice by making the atmosphere uncomfortable. It gets things done and moves people along, in and out like an assembly line.
With gray comes black, and Jaehyo can no longer see a thing. He yanks Kyung’s hands away from his eyes, because only Kyung is this childish, and finds himself at a secluded area.
“I didn’t get to wish you good luck,” Kyung says. It’s not an apology for dragging Jaehyo off, but it will suffice. Kyung hands a narrow box over to Jaehyo. “Your neck looked a little bare, so-”
Jaehyo throws himself at Kyung, no reservations of letting go. His lucky tie is inside.
“You did this on purpose.”
“Are you falling head over heels for me?”
“As if,” Jaehyo squeaks. “You’re crazy.” His nervous habit of speaking in disyllables kicks in.
“Even the way you speak is betraying you,” Kyung says. “Just give it up to me-”
Their party gets crashed, and Jaehyo leaps away and rights himself without missing a beat. No signs of damage has been done.
“That’s the spirit!” interrupts a voice. A woman who breathes authority emerges and approaches Kyung, no doubt the client. “I didn’t think things would get so heated before the trial. You impress me.”
Jaehyo resists the smile threatening to break across his face. It appears as though it’s time to put his game face on; Kyung knows just as much. They are opponents who must act as the voices of their clients. Things could not be laid out clearer.
“I have faith that you will do the same,” comes a new voice. This time, a man. “Don’t play nice.”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Jaehyo says. “If I may be excused…”
Jaehyo bows and takes his leave. He has made Kyung promise to put up a good fight, and he has faith that Kyung will carry this through to the end.
Without further delay, they enter the court.
“There exists documentation that disproves the claim.”
The jury is at the edge of their seats. Some look skeptical. Others, apprehensive. No one is in full agreement yet, not with the plaintiff, not with the defendant. Not even with each other. There are two sides to each story, and the truth has yet to be revealed. Serving by oath only compels the panel to be impartial. Deviance can wrong the innocent.
But justice can be served.
Jaehyo can right this. All that’s left for him to do is to submit the evidence, so he procures a folder from his briefcase and hands it over to the judge for review.
“The contents inside indicate that the signature was forged, and therefore-”
“You do understand that this is a judicial court of justice, don’t you?”
“Pardon?” Jaehyo asks. He’s not sure if he’s hearing things right.
“Therefore, I do not understand why you’ve given me an advertisement for electronics.”
Jaehyo goes forth to retrieve the item, and to his horror, discovers the promissory note missing.
“There must be a mistake,” Jaehyo says, and tries his briefcase again. When he can’t produce the proper document, he meets his dead end. Nothing he has written in his notes can be used to refute the accusation.
“I’m sorry, if the defendant has nothing left to say,” Kyung says, “I would like the hearing to proceed.”
When the jury has been dismissed to reach a verdict, Jaehyo pulls Kyung aside. He can bear the consequences of being discovered by either of the two spouses. Risking himself for his client’s sake is worth the price, as long as he uncovers the note.
“I don’t understand,” Jaehyo says. “Didn’t you see me put it in my briefcase?”
“I did,” Kyung says. “Unless it grew feet overnight and just upped and walked out on you.”
“Now’s not the time for that. I’m serious.”
He’s pondering as best as he can, but his mind is too overstressed to process the information that his note has gone missing. He retraces his steps from yesterday, but no dice. He doesn’t have the slightest clue as to where it could have disappeared to.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” comes the voice of the secretary. “If you will, the court shall make its proceedings.”
All’s well that ends well. Jaehyo pays the cost of his mistake with defeat, and the legal processions will be carried through by Kyung.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Kyung says. “You did, after all, tell me to put up a good fight.”
“That’s not what’s so bothersome,” Jaehyo says. He’s slumped over the cart they’re using to buy groceries. He can’t train his eyes to focus. The aisles and its flashy signs are distracting, and Kyung lends no effort into reducing Jaehyo’s frustration with his indifference. “I saw it with my own two eyes. It was there!”
“Can we focus?” Kyung asks, and sneaks a few grapes into Jaehyo’s mouth. Jaehyo welcomes it, despite himself.
“You’re not helping my headache,” Jaehyo says. He massages his temple for emphasis, but the message is carried through to Kyung. There’s nothing Jaehyo needs more now than a good night’s rest to relieve all the confusion that comes with the aftermath of a trial.
“Nincompoop.”
“What did you call me?” Jaehyo asks. “You take that back!”
If Jaehyo chucks a few grapes at Kyung, the store management would never know. That is, until they find the snaps of vine littering the fruit aisle.
“I’ll start dinner,” Jaehyo says.
“Then I’ll go wash up,” Kyung declares. He takes his victory with very little sympathy for Jaehyo, which Jaehyo should have picked up immediately but his efficacy for paying attention to detail has been reduced.
Still, a pestering sense of confusion lingers in Jaehyo’s system, and it’s gotten to the point where he can feel tremors running down from his hands to his fingertips. He can’t allow for things to continue as is. He’s going to collapse from exhaustion if he doesn’t end this.
There’s still time before dinner and Kyung has yet to finish bathing, so Jaehyo opts for a breather. And in the case of shared domestic duties, he has the conscience to take out the trash. The energy drinks they’ve been downing like water are overflowing.
Jaehyo inhales and allows himself to be immersed in the sound of his own thoughts. He can finally hear himself think. It’s cathartic, except his garbage is making a ruckus, what with its cans and shredded strips of paper. At least it’s light. Heavy lifting isn’t on the top of his priority list right now.
Then it hits him, paper. He can’t ever recall throwing away anything made of paper. Not even newspaper.
He investigates.
“Don’t mind if I dig in!” Kyung says.
It’s been too long since their last proper meal together, so Kyung takes the liberty to sit closer beside Jaehyo. He notices the shift in Jaehyo’s form but doesn’t comment. He reasons it’s the edge that has yet to subside. No matter, the deal is done. Dwelling in the past holds no place in the future.
“You must have been exhausted from staying up last night,” Jaehyo says. “What were you doing?”
“Well, I know you and your-”
“You weren’t planning on pulling your trump card on me, were you?”
“That’s the problem, you see,” Kyung says. “You’re too observant. No detail, no matter how minor, can escape you.”
X marks the spot.
“Right on target,” Jaehyo says. “I’m too observant for my own good.”
Jaehyo pulls from his pockets the remaining shreds of his promissory note and thrusts them in Kyung’s face. Panic petrifies Kyung. The invisible has been made apparent, so Kyung drops the pretense.
“I received an offer,” Kyung begins. His voice is repressed as if speaking too loud would break Jaehyo. “A firm wanted to hire me.”
“The catch?” Jaehyo asks. No amount of pleading would cushion Kyung’s fall, and Jaehyo would rather catch his words and swallow them whole than give Kyung the permission to answer him. Reality wrongs Jaehyo; Kyung makes no hesitation to hide the truth.
“To win the case.”
The wound Kyung inflicts on Jaehyo is free of emotions. It’s like he’s been dropped into perpetual free fall.
“So you thought stepping on me was the way to go?”
“I need you to stay calm and listen to me,” Kyung tries, to no avail.
“What is there to be calm down about? I was a pawn to your game of chess!”
“Don’t you understand? This was my chance! You should be happy for me!”
Kyung’s true colors have shown. The blue in Jaehyo’s retired expression is a stark contrast against it. There’s no way for the two to complement each other.
“Should I be laughing that you’re not denying any of this or crying that you betrayed my trust?”
(When morning comes, Kyung receives notice via the landlord of Jaehyo’s leave. With him, the withdrawal of cosigning the lease forms for the office space. No further payments are due. Jaehyo is far too forgiving; Kyung despises this. Avoiding the problem by imposing distance between the issue and its solution shows cowardice and denial. Kyung resolves to remedy this.
“Did he leave an address?”)
Love-in-a-box, thank you so
much!
For: remplissant
Pairing: Jaehyo/Kyung
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,357
Summary: Jaehyo is waiting for his big break in the world of law administration, but he’s in no rush to meet his goal. He’s living comfortably at the edge of town, in a small office that doubles up as his home, and he can settle with being a public notary. This is no compromise,though, because Kyung, like Jaehyo, lives under the same circumstances. Life is sufficient; they have each other. But in lieu of a recent case, they can’t remain so indifferent about the matter, not when they’ll be the biggest threat to each other.
Jaehyo excels in interpreting local ordinances. His key to success, an observant eye. His expertise, though, lies in asset distribution and property protection. He dabbles into subjects that pique his interest, anything that is tangible and practical. He’s conditioned himself to process this kind of information. As a result, the perception of common sense eludes him. He can’t quantify, despite his range of knowledge, how taboo it must be to live under the same roof as the prosecutor who he will be going against.
The issue is insignificant. He’s more awed by the fact that a scandal hasn’t broken out yet. In the loosest terms, he’s in cahoots with his enemy.
But he prefers to refer to Kyung as his friend.
The situation screams fraud, but their lips are sealed. Besides, they have no plans on embezzling what isn’t righteously theirs.
As for the case itself, this is a first for the both of them. The lawsuit involves two spouses who are currently filing for divorce. This only serves to heighten the tension in the office and increase the stakes on both sides.
Jaehyo makes a gesture to Kyung to stop being so stingy with the coffee and pass it over.
“You aren’t peeking at my notes, are you?” Kyung asks.
As far as rhetorical questions go, Jaehyo prides himself in his integrity. The control he has over his actions says more about his character than, formally known as a degree, the sheet of paper hanging from his wall. Regardless, he indulges Kyung.
“Maybe just a little,” Jaehyo jokes. “I made sure to spike your coffee.”
“Isn’t that counterintuitive, informing me of your sinister plan and all?” Kyung asks. He gauges
Jaehyo’s nonverbal cues and plays nonchalant until Jaehyo is off guard. In one swift move, he locks Jaehyo under his arms. “Have a sip, would you?”
There’s no room for compromise in the offer, so Jaehyo takes a huge sip of the steaming brew. It hits his senses and sets his nerves ablaze. He’s done his homework, so staying up past his usual bedtime wouldn’t hurt. The same can’t be said for Kyung.
When Kyung lowers his defense, however, Jaehyo seizes the opportunity to jump Kyung, and the rest of the paperwork is left resting on the coffee table. He doesn’t play dirty, but Kyung is too easy to trick. Plus, he can’t let the moment slip away. Tomorrow, they are each other’s biggest threats. Today, they are Jaehyo and Kyung.
“Oh, look at you!” Kyung says. His tone is energetic. “How dashing.”
“Aren’t I always?” Jaehyo asks. The mirror is still foggy from Kyung’s shower, but Jaehyo can work around this minor inconvenience. After all, his priorities lie with the bigger case ahead.
“Should we leave separately or together?” Jaehyo asks. He knows the answer to this question, but a part of him insists on testing the waters. Professionalism ranks above their relationship. Neither of them can dismiss this principle, but Jaehyo enjoys the challenge of walking astray from convention.
“Well, you know me,” Kyung says. “I take forever. Plus, we can’t let the clients see us leaving from the same place.”
Kyung validates Jaehyo’s intuition. The refusal is out of the better good for the both of them, and Jaehyo can empathize. If relationships are built on sacrifice, he doesn’t feel like he’s giving up too much.
“Where’s my lucky tie?” Jaehyo asks. “The skinny black one?”
“Funny you should ask,” Kyung says, in between mouthfuls of toothpaste. “It’s in the washing machine.”
“I knew you were up to no good,” Jaehyo says. He tries for indignation, but Kyung can see past the act. “Now I’m going to lose the case.”
“Oh, don’t be so superstitious. You wrote a pretty good rebuttal, but you’re missing a few key points, if I do say so myself.”
“Get out,” Jaehyo says. Even with the tension so high, Jaehyo can still find a place in himself to joke around. And piggybacking off of Kyung’s tendency to dive at him with headlocks, Jaehyo returns the favor.
“Uncle,” Kyung says. “Uncle, uncle, uncle!”
“Good,” Jaehyo says. “I’ll leave first.”
“Fine, don’t wish me luck on the case,” Kyung says, but contrary to his words, he sends Jaehyo off. He corrects Jaehyo’s unruly collar, and his grip lingers. His expression falters, enough to convey a hint of unyielding determination, and he dismisses Jaehyo.
“Break a leg,” Jaehyo says. He raises his fist to bid Kyung good luck and then ventures off.
The staff prompts Jaehyo to sign in and proceeds with ushering him to the designated area. Jaehyo notes how automated the service is. It’s just as dull as the lobby’s gray walls. No splash of color to liven the place up. Figures, everyone who walks past the revolving doors is either spiteful over a dispute or drained from too many delayed hearings. This is the last place that anyone would want to be at. The court doesn’t even do them a disservice by making the atmosphere uncomfortable. It gets things done and moves people along, in and out like an assembly line.
With gray comes black, and Jaehyo can no longer see a thing. He yanks Kyung’s hands away from his eyes, because only Kyung is this childish, and finds himself at a secluded area.
“I didn’t get to wish you good luck,” Kyung says. It’s not an apology for dragging Jaehyo off, but it will suffice. Kyung hands a narrow box over to Jaehyo. “Your neck looked a little bare, so-”
Jaehyo throws himself at Kyung, no reservations of letting go. His lucky tie is inside.
“You did this on purpose.”
“Are you falling head over heels for me?”
“As if,” Jaehyo squeaks. “You’re crazy.” His nervous habit of speaking in disyllables kicks in.
“Even the way you speak is betraying you,” Kyung says. “Just give it up to me-”
Their party gets crashed, and Jaehyo leaps away and rights himself without missing a beat. No signs of damage has been done.
“That’s the spirit!” interrupts a voice. A woman who breathes authority emerges and approaches Kyung, no doubt the client. “I didn’t think things would get so heated before the trial. You impress me.”
Jaehyo resists the smile threatening to break across his face. It appears as though it’s time to put his game face on; Kyung knows just as much. They are opponents who must act as the voices of their clients. Things could not be laid out clearer.
“I have faith that you will do the same,” comes a new voice. This time, a man. “Don’t play nice.”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Jaehyo says. “If I may be excused…”
Jaehyo bows and takes his leave. He has made Kyung promise to put up a good fight, and he has faith that Kyung will carry this through to the end.
Without further delay, they enter the court.
“There exists documentation that disproves the claim.”
The jury is at the edge of their seats. Some look skeptical. Others, apprehensive. No one is in full agreement yet, not with the plaintiff, not with the defendant. Not even with each other. There are two sides to each story, and the truth has yet to be revealed. Serving by oath only compels the panel to be impartial. Deviance can wrong the innocent.
But justice can be served.
Jaehyo can right this. All that’s left for him to do is to submit the evidence, so he procures a folder from his briefcase and hands it over to the judge for review.
“The contents inside indicate that the signature was forged, and therefore-”
“You do understand that this is a judicial court of justice, don’t you?”
“Pardon?” Jaehyo asks. He’s not sure if he’s hearing things right.
“Therefore, I do not understand why you’ve given me an advertisement for electronics.”
Jaehyo goes forth to retrieve the item, and to his horror, discovers the promissory note missing.
“There must be a mistake,” Jaehyo says, and tries his briefcase again. When he can’t produce the proper document, he meets his dead end. Nothing he has written in his notes can be used to refute the accusation.
“I’m sorry, if the defendant has nothing left to say,” Kyung says, “I would like the hearing to proceed.”
When the jury has been dismissed to reach a verdict, Jaehyo pulls Kyung aside. He can bear the consequences of being discovered by either of the two spouses. Risking himself for his client’s sake is worth the price, as long as he uncovers the note.
“I don’t understand,” Jaehyo says. “Didn’t you see me put it in my briefcase?”
“I did,” Kyung says. “Unless it grew feet overnight and just upped and walked out on you.”
“Now’s not the time for that. I’m serious.”
He’s pondering as best as he can, but his mind is too overstressed to process the information that his note has gone missing. He retraces his steps from yesterday, but no dice. He doesn’t have the slightest clue as to where it could have disappeared to.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” comes the voice of the secretary. “If you will, the court shall make its proceedings.”
All’s well that ends well. Jaehyo pays the cost of his mistake with defeat, and the legal processions will be carried through by Kyung.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Kyung says. “You did, after all, tell me to put up a good fight.”
“That’s not what’s so bothersome,” Jaehyo says. He’s slumped over the cart they’re using to buy groceries. He can’t train his eyes to focus. The aisles and its flashy signs are distracting, and Kyung lends no effort into reducing Jaehyo’s frustration with his indifference. “I saw it with my own two eyes. It was there!”
“Can we focus?” Kyung asks, and sneaks a few grapes into Jaehyo’s mouth. Jaehyo welcomes it, despite himself.
“You’re not helping my headache,” Jaehyo says. He massages his temple for emphasis, but the message is carried through to Kyung. There’s nothing Jaehyo needs more now than a good night’s rest to relieve all the confusion that comes with the aftermath of a trial.
“Nincompoop.”
“What did you call me?” Jaehyo asks. “You take that back!”
If Jaehyo chucks a few grapes at Kyung, the store management would never know. That is, until they find the snaps of vine littering the fruit aisle.
“I’ll start dinner,” Jaehyo says.
“Then I’ll go wash up,” Kyung declares. He takes his victory with very little sympathy for Jaehyo, which Jaehyo should have picked up immediately but his efficacy for paying attention to detail has been reduced.
Still, a pestering sense of confusion lingers in Jaehyo’s system, and it’s gotten to the point where he can feel tremors running down from his hands to his fingertips. He can’t allow for things to continue as is. He’s going to collapse from exhaustion if he doesn’t end this.
There’s still time before dinner and Kyung has yet to finish bathing, so Jaehyo opts for a breather. And in the case of shared domestic duties, he has the conscience to take out the trash. The energy drinks they’ve been downing like water are overflowing.
Jaehyo inhales and allows himself to be immersed in the sound of his own thoughts. He can finally hear himself think. It’s cathartic, except his garbage is making a ruckus, what with its cans and shredded strips of paper. At least it’s light. Heavy lifting isn’t on the top of his priority list right now.
Then it hits him, paper. He can’t ever recall throwing away anything made of paper. Not even newspaper.
He investigates.
“Don’t mind if I dig in!” Kyung says.
It’s been too long since their last proper meal together, so Kyung takes the liberty to sit closer beside Jaehyo. He notices the shift in Jaehyo’s form but doesn’t comment. He reasons it’s the edge that has yet to subside. No matter, the deal is done. Dwelling in the past holds no place in the future.
“You must have been exhausted from staying up last night,” Jaehyo says. “What were you doing?”
“Well, I know you and your-”
“You weren’t planning on pulling your trump card on me, were you?”
“That’s the problem, you see,” Kyung says. “You’re too observant. No detail, no matter how minor, can escape you.”
X marks the spot.
“Right on target,” Jaehyo says. “I’m too observant for my own good.”
Jaehyo pulls from his pockets the remaining shreds of his promissory note and thrusts them in Kyung’s face. Panic petrifies Kyung. The invisible has been made apparent, so Kyung drops the pretense.
“I received an offer,” Kyung begins. His voice is repressed as if speaking too loud would break Jaehyo. “A firm wanted to hire me.”
“The catch?” Jaehyo asks. No amount of pleading would cushion Kyung’s fall, and Jaehyo would rather catch his words and swallow them whole than give Kyung the permission to answer him. Reality wrongs Jaehyo; Kyung makes no hesitation to hide the truth.
“To win the case.”
The wound Kyung inflicts on Jaehyo is free of emotions. It’s like he’s been dropped into perpetual free fall.
“So you thought stepping on me was the way to go?”
“I need you to stay calm and listen to me,” Kyung tries, to no avail.
“What is there to be calm down about? I was a pawn to your game of chess!”
“Don’t you understand? This was my chance! You should be happy for me!”
Kyung’s true colors have shown. The blue in Jaehyo’s retired expression is a stark contrast against it. There’s no way for the two to complement each other.
“Should I be laughing that you’re not denying any of this or crying that you betrayed my trust?”
(When morning comes, Kyung receives notice via the landlord of Jaehyo’s leave. With him, the withdrawal of cosigning the lease forms for the office space. No further payments are due. Jaehyo is far too forgiving; Kyung despises this. Avoiding the problem by imposing distance between the issue and its solution shows cowardice and denial. Kyung resolves to remedy this.
“Did he leave an address?”)
Love-in-a-box, thank you so
much!