One Night Stand // A ChanBaek Fan Fic

Chapter Eight

Baekhyun:

I sat up straight in my chair, which was right next to my father's. His was a large black longback that looked more like a throne than an office chair. It was set higher too so his head was never beneath those sitting around him. I took great satisfaction in fantasizing that Chanyeol sitting next to him would still be taller.

The meeting itself was long and boring and completely unnecessary. From what I could gather it was just a confirmation between the two companies that were merging. Why the hell had my father brought me here for this? After an hour of back and forth information exchanges and random banter between the shareholders, my back was getting stiff. I tried not to stoop my shoulders but I was screaming internally because I could feel each muscle in my back crying out in agony. I let out the softest sigh I could but I still felt my father give me a sharp look.

"Hwejang-nim. I think that will conclude our meeting for today." One of the men sitting around the table said. I think he was the company's CFO. He was not quite as old as my father, but still old. All of them were old. Every person sitting around this table was old and wrinkly and had some of the most monotone voices I'd heard in my life...

"Baekhyun-ssi." One of the old wrinkled faces from the board stopped me when we were leaving the conference room. "I was unable to make it to the company function last week. So I would like to offer my congratulations on your engagement." He smiled so wide his eyes disappeared into the folds of skin in his face.

"Ne. Ah...Thank you." I said awkwardly, trying to keep my voice unaffected. My father was watching me from the outside the door.

"Here." He lifted his hands, handing me a box. "A gift. I wasn't quite sure what to get for you, but I'm sure you'll like them." I took the box from him, one-handed like my father had drilled into me. Most people who were taught how to accept gifts from people in manners classes when they were little, were taught to bow when receiving a gift and never to accept one with one hand; instead they were taught to hold out both as a sign of polite acceptance. Not my father. He said it made his children look like beggars.

"Thank you." I said again, opening the wooden box. Shit. I pinched my lips when I saw what was inside, wondering how to let him down gently. "They are very lovely, thank you. But...I don't smoke." I said. He looked flustered for a moment, chuckling like he couldn't believe me.

"You don't?" No. My voice was everything to me. There was no way I'd ever do anything to mess up my vocal chords or my lungs. I opened my mouth to answer but my father beat me to it.

"Young ladies these days don't like men who smoke, you know." He told his colleague. I frowned at the ridiculousness of that statement but I kept quiet because contradicting him in front of other people was a big no-no.

"I see." He chuckled and patted my shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. "Well, in any case, I wish you the best. I must be going now." He gave us both a bow and then he was gone. Father stared at me for a while, saying nothing. I tensed reflexively because that was never a good thing, but he just nodded and then he too, was gone.

I sighed as I entered my apartment, my shoes clattering on the floor when I kicked them off. Fuck my life. Seriously. I shuffled like a zombie into my kitchen and opened my fridge, just standing there and looking at everything. Was I even hungry? I didn't feel hungry. I just felt disconnected and lost. I shut the fridge and dragged myself to my bedroom, falling on the bed with a groan. How can doing nothing for an hour make you so tired? I shut my eyes and day dreamed about lying on a beach somewhere in the sun, where my muscles felt loose and relaxed and the waves crashed on the shore like a pulse.