Bend & Break | Wooyoung [Ongoing]

4 | he rides with sprightly elves, jolly jams and red

Him.

CHANGBIN DID WELL ENOUGH TO quell his irritation when I latched onto his wrist.

His signature snapback was worn correctly today, casting an ominous shadow over his eyes it was best to steer clear if you didn't know what he was thinking. His hoodie was black, oversized, ending along his hips, and underneath, the length of his shorts quit above his knees. At the moment, we differed like night and day. But he was everything Muye hated in a man, I just might be everything she wanted in a man.

"How do I look?" Asking this question, it was dicey, I knew. Either way that Changbin might get leeway to demoralize me, I'd come this far, enveloped by the sanguine ambiance at Ar¡A's HQ. There was no turning back.

Changbin didn't bother with a once-over, merely holding my gaze, perusing my features searchingly. I wondered if he saw the despair when he gazed at me. I assumed he did the instant his jaw tightened before going slack, releasing a sigh through his nostrils with obvious effort. A nonuniform release of breath.

"Any girl would be damn lucky to have you," he said in this monotonous voice that flickered with traces of sincerity, there but not.

The second I let his wrist drop, he walked on ahead like nothing happened. I was dressed to the nines and any girl would be damn lucky to have me—my life was a bed of lies. I was lying in my bed of lies; the pun wasn't lost on me. Nothing was lost on me. Gradually I'd been learning to cohabit with the guilt, since it might be even worse giving up on this entirely, because then, I couldn't have Song Muye.

Because then, I'd be left to swim in chagrin the next time I was perched across from another out-of-my-league brunette, who didn't want to be there as much as I didn't want to be there. My friends were the worst matchmakers. I guessed I could understand why the lot of us were pathetically single, Saerom until recently.

"You coming or what?" I snapped out of it. Changbin was already at the elevator, flanked by people he could be tight with just enough to call them out on their shit if presented the chance. They looked one and the same.

No one was talking to anybody, I presumed it was because all eyes had found me. This one guy in particular relieved his brows of a frown once he realized there were no grounds to be pissed with me, the elevator wasn't here yet. He had fiery red hair, ensemble quite similar to Changbin's, to the man on his right, the one on Changbin's right as well. I found myself growing spiteful of these people. They had the liberty to be who and what they wanted to be. Compared to Kim&Co, the atmosphere was bright and bouncy. In other words, music made for a candy land where all could be happy. Look at them go—sprightly elves having the time of their lives, waiting the cleated carriage's descent to convey them to their various stations. I bet Changbin was in charge of the jolly jams; tall guy with the red hair, clutching a to-go bag in his left hand, must be responsible for giving out the free goodies to the deserving hirelings, those not on the naughty list.

To think there were people existing in a life like this was inconceivable.

I floated over to them, my heart in my chest suddenly cracking with gumption to trapeze about inside. The joy in this place was infectious. As I inched near in my suit-clad body, I was displaced. How many of them would fall for the idea that I'd linked to the business world, a percentage of something in it.

"Sorry," I said to Changbin, my eyes skittering over to the other guy. His eyes were like scrutinizing beams of light, I sensed my blood congealing beneath their direct intensity, at the same time it tempted me to straight up ask him what his deal was. But I broke eye contact instead.

I'd hitched far less uncomfortable elevator rides. Kim&Co was known for them—the one elevator, the unending rides, the first-rate maintenance issues. It was one thing that had Kim's head in the clouds, my ex-boss finally believing he could rub shoulders with the big names. Then you step onto the floor, Kim&Co blazing large behind the small receptionist desk, the light encasing the letter 'C' fluctuating; air stale with despondency and lethargy. The place where ambition went to end its life. Same might have went for me if there wasn't Changbin bruiting about tempting motivational speeches—"You're above those assholes. If the chief asshole can't see you for what you are, why the hell waste precious time and grit and spirit working there. You are better than them."