Your POV
You were starting to question if you had somehow offended every higher power in existence.
An hour into cleaning the so-called "office," and you hadn't even made it past the desk. A storm of dust had declared war on your lungs, the chair wobbled like it belonged in a haunted house, and every drawer you opened held either dead bugs or paperclips from God knows what year. Sometimes there were both.
You were mid-sneeze, a damp cloth in one hand and a garbage bag in the other, when the door swings open.
Yugyeom.
Of course.
He didn't knock. He didn't say anything. He walks in like he owned the building—and to be fair, he kind of did.
You barely had time to stand up straight before a stack of folders landed on your half-dirty, half-wet desk with a dramatic thud.
You blink at them.
He smirks.
"I figured since you're getting settled in, I'd give you something to do– you'd appreciate that more than... this." He motions around the room and slightly kicks an empty box with the toe of his leather, polished shoe.
You stare at the files. Then back at him. Then at your desk, which was still covered in grime and an unidentified sticky substance.
"Helpful," you mutter.
"That's me," he replies smoothly, already turning to leave.
You narrow your eyes. "I haven't even finished cleaning yet."
He pauses at the door, hand on the handle. "Then I guess you'd better hurry. I need those first thing in the morning." And with that, he leaves.
You seriously consider throwing those files at his retreating back.
*
You'd made progress—real, visible, miraculous progress.
The desk was finally wiped down, the trash bags were lined up like defeated soldiers by the door, and the floor didn't feel like it was going to bite you anymore. Sure, the shelves still looked like they'd been on the verge of a breakdown, and your chair creaked like it was haunted, but the hard part was over.
All that was left was buying new supplies. A keyboard that didn't stick, maybe a cute desk lamp, a couple organizers. Stuff that could wait. You settle on buying all the new furniture for the weekend, and since it was Friday, you had plenty of time to decide on what to purchase.
Just as you're wiping your hands with a tissue and mentally patting yourself on the back, a knock echoes through your semi-clean office. You jump a little—maybe out of exhaustion, or maybe because every time someone knocks, it was followed by a headache.
"Come in!" you call, trying to sound chipper and not completely wiped out.
The door creaks open.
You freeze.
Yugyeom stands there again, this time with another small stack of folders and a cup of something suspiciously not for you.
"Oh. You're still here," he says casually, glancing around. His eyes flicking over the room—less disgusted than yesterday, but still not impressed.
You offer him a tight-lipped smile. "Didn't realize my contract included full-time janitorial work."
"I'm sure it's in the fine print," he says, placing the folders on your now-clean desk like he was testing how clean it really was. His coffee cup joins it, no coaster in sight.
You stare at the ring it left behind.
"I just finished cleaning that."
"You'll live."
You take a deep breath and remind yourself that jail time is not worth it.
"I was actually planning to head out. Just need to pick up new supplies over the weekend."
"Oh, right," he says, leaning against the doorframe like he had nothing better to do. "You're one of those organized types."
You blink at him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
He doesn't answer. Just grins, pushes off the doorframe. He's about to leave until he stops and turns back around to face you.
"Don't forget about those," he motions at the folders on your desk, "I need them in the morning, remember?"He shoots you one last smirk before finally walking out and leaving you in your half-clean half-destroyed office.
You stare after him for a while, then sigh, flopping into your wobbly chair, and whispering to the ceiling, "Lord, give me strength. And maybe a raise."
*
i seriously dont know what gave me the motivation to rewrite all of this but here i am!
YOU ARE READING
Arranged Marriage
Fanfiction"You don't hate me, Yooha. You just wish you did," Yugyeom steps closer, his eyes locking onto hers as she steps back. "I wish I could hate you," "Because it would be so much easier than admitting I can't stop thinking about you."
