Han Seojin sighed as he coasted his bike into the familiar street again. The delivery slip on his phone glowed with the same address as last night: Apartment 1703, Skyview Towers.
He squinted at it.
"Seriously? Him again?"
Most rich customers rotated between restaurants, rarely ordering from the same place twice. But this was the second night in a row. Seojin told himself it was coincidence, but something in his gut felt otherwise.
The ride up to the seventeenth floor was quiet. The lobby's polished marble reflected his scuffed sneakers back at him, reminding him again that he didn't belong here. He knocked lightly, half-expecting no answer.
The door opened immediately.
There was Yoon Jaemin, still in his oversized hoodie, glasses slightly crooked, hair messy as though he hadn't left his desk in days. His eyes, though, were sharp—like he'd been waiting.
"You again," Seojin muttered, handing him the bag.
Jaemin's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "You sound disappointed."
"I just didn't expect to see the same customer twice in two nights." Seojin tilted his head. "Guess you really don't know how to cook."
"Maybe I prefer this." Jaemin's gaze lingered longer than necessary, unreadable but intent.
Seojin shifted, uncomfortable. "Whatever. Here's your food."
As he turned to leave, Jaemin spoke suddenly.
"Did you eat yet?"
Seojin blinked. "What?"
"I ordered extra," Jaemin said, tone calm but deliberate. "Take it, if you want."
Seojin stiffened. His pride bristled immediately, like a thorn catching cloth. He hated the way it sounded—like charity. "Thanks, but no thanks," he snapped. "I'm not here for handouts."
Something flickered across Jaemin's expression—surprise, maybe even apology—but he only nodded. "I see. Safe ride home, then."
The door clicked shut.
---
By the time Seojin reached his tiny one-room apartment, irritation was buzzing through him. He dropped his delivery bag on the floor, reheated leftover rice and kimchi stew, and ate quietly under the dim, flickering light.
The contrast made him grit his teeth—his cramped walls against Jaemin's sleek, polished space. No wonder his words had hit harder than they should have.
But still… Seojin couldn't forget the way Jaemin had asked if he'd eaten. It hadn't sounded like pity. It had sounded… genuine. That, somehow, made it harder to shake off.
---
Meanwhile, in Apartment 1703, Jaemin sat in front of his glowing monitor, pushing through lines of stubborn code. His food sat cooling on the desk beside him, mostly untouched.
He replayed the scene at the door. The delivery boy—Han Seojin—had refused the extra food so sharply, but not without reason. Pride. Independence. A refusal to be seen as weak.
Jaemin found himself intrigued. Most people drifted through his life like passing code: functional, temporary, forgettable. But Seojin? He was full of contradictions. Exhausted yet strong, sharp yet vulnerable.
Jaemin adjusted his glasses, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.
Maybe coincidence wasn't enough.
---
The next evening, when Seojin's phone buzzed, he frowned.
Another order.
Same building.
Same apartment number.
"…No way," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
He considered rejecting it, but work was work. Money was money. So he accepted, though his stomach twisted with suspicion.
By the time he knocked on the door, he was ready to confront it head-on.
The door opened—and this time Jaemin wasn't in a hoodie. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled casually up his forearms, the top button undone. His hair was still messy, but somehow, it made him look sharper, more deliberate.
"You again," Seojin said flatly, narrowing his eyes.
Jaemin's voice was calm, almost amused. "Third time's the charm."
Seojin handed over the bag. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
"Maybe I am." Jaemin's gaze met his steadily, no hesitation. "What will you do about it?"
Seojin blinked, caught off guard. His mouth opened, then closed again. "You're weird," he muttered finally, spinning on his heel.
Behind him, Jaemin's faint smile lingered.
And though Seojin pedaled away into the night, irritation buzzing in his chest, his heart was beating far faster than it should.