Chasing Perfection || Lee Know

Flaky croissants and jealousy

The kitchen was calm—for once. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting the marble countertop in warm tones. The faint hum of the coffee machine paired perfectly with the rhythmic sound of Hyejin kneading dough. She'd finally found her groove after a frustrating morning of sticky disasters.

The batch of croissants cooling on the counter was a small miracle. Golden, flaky, and painfully smug-looking, they sat as though mocking her earlier struggles.

"You're staring at those croissants like they've wronged you," Lee Know quipped, leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed.

Hyejin didn't bother glancing up. "Maybe they have. Look at them, sitting there all smug and flawless."

"Smug?" His voice laced with amusement. "They're pastries. Not sure they're capable of emotions."

"They represent everything wrong with the world," she deadpanned, picking up a knife to slice into one. "Effortless perfection. Meanwhile, I spent the entire morning trying to roll dough that kept sticking to everything."

"Do you always sneak up on people like that?" she asked, glaring at him.

"Do you always have full-blown arguments with your cooking?" he shot back, stepping into the kitchen.

Hyejin returned her attention to the croissants, ignoring the way his presence seemed to shrink the massive kitchen. "I wasn't arguing. I was venting. Big difference."

"Right." He walked closer, casually picking up one of the croissants. "And what did these poor pastries do to earn your wrath?"

"They had the audacity to turn out perfect." She gestured at the batch with a flourish. "While I spent hours fighting dough that acted like it had a personal vendetta against me."

Lee Know raised an eyebrow before taking a bite. The layers crunched audibly, and Hyejin's eyes narrowed at the satisfied hum he made.

"Not bad," he said after a moment, inspecting the croissant like he was some kind of food critic.

"'Not bad'?" she repeated, crossing her arms. "Do you know how long it took me to get them like that?"

"I didn't say they were bad," he pointed out, smirking. "Just that they're not bad."

"Oh, thank you, Gordon Ramsay," she muttered, snatching a plate and slicing another croissant. "I'll be sure to frame that glowing review."

His smirk deepened as he leaned against the counter, watching her work. "You always this dramatic?"

"Only when provoked," she said, her tone dry. She pushed the plate toward him. "Here. A peace offering, so you can stop hovering like a vulture."

"A vulture?" He took the plate, looking genuinely offended. "I'll have you know I'm much more sophisticated than that. Maybe a hawk."

Hyejin couldn't stop the laugh that slipped out. "Sure. A hawk in a cashmere sweater."

"Laugh all you want," he said, taking another bite. "But I've been told I'm very sharp."

"By who? Your mirror?"

He chuckled, brushing crumbs off his hands—right onto the spotless counter.

"Seriously?" She grabbed a towel, giving him a pointed look. "Do you know how much effort it takes to keep this place clean?"

"It's a kitchen," he said with a shrug. "A little mess adds character."

"Character doesn't pay my bills," she muttered, wiping the counter.

His eyes glinted with amusement. "You know, most people would just say 'thank you' when someone compliments their cooking."

"Most people don't insult it first," she shot back, but her tone was more playful than biting.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Let me rephrase. These are possibly the best croissants I've ever had."

"Possibly?"

"I don't want you getting a big head."

Hyejin rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Wow. Such high praise. I'm overwhelmed."

He leaned closer, resting his elbows on the counter. "You should be. I don't hand out compliments easily."

"Noted," she said, turning back to the cutting board. But she could feel his eyes on her, the intensity of his gaze unsettling in a way she didn't want to admit.

"So," he said after a moment, his tone shifting slightly. "Is this how you were at home, too? Bossing everyone around?"

She snorted. "Hardly. I was the one getting bossed around."

"Middle child problems?"

"Big time." She reached for the coffee pot, pouring herself a cup. "Every meal was a battlefield. You had to fight for your share, or you'd end up with nothing but scraps."

"Explains a lot," he said, and she turned to find him smirking again.

"Excuse me?"

"Your competitiveness," he clarified, his voice softer now. "Bet you had to be scrappy to stand out."

Hyejin paused, his words hitting closer to home than she expected. "Maybe," she said after a moment, lifting her cup to her lips. "But it wasn't just about standing out. It was about proving I could keep up."

Lee Know tilted his head, studying her. "Sounds exhausting."

"It was." She set the cup down, fiddling with the handle. "But it also made me who I am. So, I can't complain too much."

"Fair enough," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "For what it's worth, I think you turned out pretty well."

She blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "Was that... an actual compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your head," he said quickly, but there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes.

Hyejin smiled despite herself. "Noted. I'll just add it to the very short list of 'rare Minho moments.'"

"Minho?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

She froze, realizing her slip. "It... just came out. Don't read into it."

"Too late," he said, his smirk returning. "I like the sound of it."

"Of course you do." She shook her head, but her cheeks felt uncomfortably warm.

Silence settled over the kitchen, but it wasn't the tense, awkward kind. It was... easy. Comfortable, even. Hyejin wasn't sure when that had started happening—when their exchanges had stopped feeling like battles and started feeling like this.

But as she watched Lee Know grab another croissant, leaving a fresh trail of crumbs in his wake, she decided she didn't hate it. Not entirely, anyway.

For now, she'd let it slide.

The banter continued throughout the day, but as evening approached, a new challenge emerged—one that no witty remark could solve.

"Sookhee usually keeps the kitchen stocked," Lee Know said nonchalantly, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe again.

"Yeah, well, your fridge is emptier than my bank account," Hyejin shot back, glaring at the barren shelves. "What am I supposed to cook with? A bottle of soy sauce and a wrinkly carrot?"

"Creative chefs thrive under constraints," he quipped.

"Or they starve," she retorted, slamming the fridge door shut. "You're coming with me to the store. Now."

At the Grocery Store

The bright lights and bustling aisles of the grocery store were a sharp contrast to the quiet elegance of Lee Know's home. Pushing the cart ahead of her, Hyejin rattled off ingredients, her voice cutting through the hum of chatter around them.

"Flour, eggs, chicken... and what else?"

"Soy milk," he said absently, picking up a box of cereal.

"Soy milk? For what?"

"For drinking."

Hyejin rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Fine. Get it yourself. I'll grab some vegetables."

They split up, Hyejin navigating her way to the produce section. She reached for a pack of mushrooms on the top shelf but froze, realizing it was just out of reach. Standing on her tiptoes didn't help, and there wasn't a stool in sight.

"Need help with that?"

A warm voice interrupted her struggle. She turned to see a tall, friendly-looking man. He smiled as he effortlessly grabbed the mushrooms and handed them to her.

"Thanks," she said, slightly embarrassed.

"No problem. Struggles of being vertically challenged?"

"Something like that," she admitted, laughing.

They struck up a conversation while she continued picking out vegetables, their chatter light and easy.

When Lee Know returned, carrying soy milk and a bag of rice, his eyes immediately narrowed at the scene in front of him. Hyejin and the stranger were standing too close, laughing too much.

"Making friends, are we?" Lee Know said smoothly, stepping between them.

Hyejin blinked, startled by his sudden presence. "Oh, this is Seojun. He helped me with the mushrooms."

"Did he?" Lee Know's smile was tight. "I'm Minho. Hyejin's close friend."

Hyejin whipped her head toward him, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Close friend?"

"Yes," Lee Know said quickly, clearly regretting his words but too stubborn to back down.

"Since when are we close friends?" she shot back, crossing her arms.

Lee Know ignored her and turned to Seojun, who raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, watching the exchange. "Thanks for your help, but we should get going."

"Yeah, okay," Seojun said with a small smile. "It was nice meeting you, Hyejin."

"You too," she said, still glaring at Lee Know.

On the Ride Home

The tension in the car was palpable. Hyejin stared out the window, her arms crossed tightly. Lee Know's grip on the steering wheel was firm, his jaw clenched.

"Close friend," she muttered under her breath, breaking the silence.

Lee Know sighed. "Look, I panicked, okay?"

"You panicked?" she repeated, turning to glare at him. "What did you think was going to happen? That I'd elope with him over mushrooms?"

"I didn't like the way he looked at you," he admitted, his voice quieter.

Hyejin blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"He was looking at you like..." He trailed off, his expression unreadable. "Like he wanted something from you."

"And that's a problem because?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"I don't know!" he snapped, frustrated. "It just—bothered me."

Hyejin tilted her head, studying him. His usual confidence seemed fractured, replaced by something almost vulnerable. She sighed, her irritation fading slightly.

"You know," she started, her tone softer, "if you're going to act like a jealous idiot, at least own it."

"I wasn't jealous," he said defensively, but the pink tinge on his ears betrayed him.

"Sure, and those croissants didn't ruin my morning," she said dryly.

Lee Know glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. "Fine. Maybe I was a little... protective."

"Protective," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "That's rich coming from someone who's barely tolerable most of the time."

"And yet, here you are," he shot back, smirking.

Hyejin couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," he admitted, the tension in the car finally dissipating. "But at least I'm consistent."

"Consistently annoying," she muttered, but there was no heat in her words.

For the first time that day, the silence between them felt comfortable.