Kai had let that innocent smile follow him everywhere. His thoughts, his dreams, his entire mind. But something about it sparked a trace of suspicion in him. The way that it seemed to hide something darker..something that Kai was walking right into, like a trap. Before he had time to realize what this innocent boy was hiding, the very subject of Kai's sleepless nights walked in.
"Sir? I have your coffee, and presentation script."
Ren mumbled. His voice barely above a whisper. Mysterious. Dark. But his charm was impossible to question. Impossible to walk away from.It kept pulling Kai in, as much as he wanted to doubt it.
"Yeah, yeah..scripts. Uh..thank you.."
Kai muttered. He didn't want to say his name again. Not after this boy had taken over all his days. He'd become his only thought, even though he wasn't.
Kai watched Ren quietly as he placed the cup on his desk, the faint clink of porcelain echoing in the nearly empty office. The morning sun slipped through the blinds, cutting lines of gold across Ren's face. The boy looked tired, his dark hair falling loosely over his eyes, but there was something serene about him—too serene. It made Kai uneasy.
"You didn't have to come in this early," Kai said, trying to sound casual.
Ren just shrugged. "You said you wanted the script before nine."
"That doesn't mean six-thirty," Kai muttered, rubbing his temples.
Ren stayed silent for a moment. His eyes flicked toward the floor, then back up, almost daring Kai to ask what he really wanted to say. The tension sat between them, quiet but unmistakable.
Kai sighed. "Did you even sleep?"
Ren tilted his head. "Why do you care?"
The question wasn't sharp, but it caught Kai off guard. His jaw tightened. He wanted to respond—say something that would erase the sting—but his tongue stalled.
"I don't," Kai said, but the lie hung heavy in the air.
Ren smiled faintly, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Right."
For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of the office clock. Kai forced himself to focus on the papers in front of him, though none of the words sank in. He could feel Ren's presence behind him, quiet and unreadable.
Then, a soft rustle. Ren had turned to leave.
"Wait," Kai said before he could stop himself.
Ren froze in the doorway. "Yes, sir?"
Kai hesitated. "You can sit," he said quickly. "I'll look through the script now."
Ren nodded and sat across from him. The silence returned, thicker this time. Kai read the first few lines, then stopped.
"Did you change the opening paragraph?"
Ren looked puzzled. "You said it felt flat, so I made it sound more personal."
"I didn't say that."
Ren frowned. "You implied it yesterday."
"I didn't imply anything. I just said it needed to sound confident."
"That's what I did."
Kai let the papers drop on the desk. "Ren, confident doesn't mean emotional. It's a company pitch, not a diary."
The words came out harsher than he meant them to.
Ren's expression darkened. "I thought it might sound more natural. You know, like someone actually cared about what they're saying instead of—"
"Instead of what?" Kai snapped. "Instead of sounding like me?"
Ren's eyes widened slightly. "That's not what I—"
"Don't act like you know how this works. You're new. You can't just rewrite things because you feel something about them."
There it was. The snap he'd been trying to avoid.
Ren's lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. He stood, quietly pushing the chair back. "Sorry. I'll redo it."
Kai stared at him, guilt clawing its way up his chest. "Ren—"
But Ren didn't look back. He picked up his bag, muttered a quick "I'll email you the new draft," and walked out. The sound of the door closing felt like a punch.
Kai ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Idiot.
He'd seen the way Ren worked—the late nights, the quiet effort, the way he always looked half-asleep but somehow never complained. He didn't deserve that tone. But Kai didn't know how else to deal with him. The more he tried to stay detached, the harder it became. Ren wasn't supposed to matter. Yet somehow, he did.
By noon, the tension had followed Kai everywhere—into meetings, lunch, even the elevator. When he returned to his office, the coffee Ren had brought him was still on the desk, untouched and cold.
He picked it up and took a sip. Bitter. Just like everything else today.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," he said, expecting anyone but him.
Ren stepped inside quietly. No bag this time, just a small folder clutched in his hands. His expression was unreadable.
"I finished the revision," he said. "It's shorter. And—less emotional."
Kai opened his mouth, but Ren added, "Just how you like it."
The words stung more than they should have.
"Ren, I didn't mean—"
"It's fine." He set the folder down. "You were right. I overstepped."
Kai watched him for a moment. "You're not mad?"
Ren gave a half-smile. "Do I look mad?"
Kai sighed. "A little."
Ren tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Then maybe I am."
It was the faintest hint of teasing, but Kai caught it. Something inside him eased.
"You don't take anything seriously, do you?" he said.
Ren's smile faded. "I do. Just not the things that don't matter."
"Like what?"
Ren's eyes flicked up to meet his. "Like you yelling at me."
Kai blinked. "So it didn't matter?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what are you saying?"
Ren's silence said more than any explanation could.
Kai leaned back in his chair, studying him. "You're confusing, you know that?"
Ren smirked faintly. "You're one to talk."
Kai couldn't help but laugh—just once, quietly. It felt strange, laughing in the middle of all this tension. Ren's lips curved too, as if the sound had caught him off guard.
"Okay," Kai said after a moment. "Maybe I was a little harsh earlier."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "A little?"
Kai rolled his eyes. "Fine. I was harsh."
"And?"
Kai hesitated, but the look Ren gave him made it impossible to lie. "And I'm sorry."
Ren looked at him for a moment, then sat down again, this time slower, calmer. "You know, I didn't rewrite it because I thought I knew better."
"Then why?"
"Because I thought you might want something different. You always sound like you're trying to impress people, like you don't even like what you're saying."
Kai frowned. "You think I don't?"
"I think you don't feel it," Ren said softly. "You talk about passion in the project, but you never show any."
Kai didn't know what to say to that. Maybe because it was true.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence.
Finally, Kai sighed. "You really think I don't care?"
Ren met his eyes. "I think you do. Just not about work."
Kai chuckled bitterly. "You're full of opinions for an intern."
"Maybe," Ren said, "but I notice things."
Kai leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Like what?"
Ren's gaze flickered toward him, hesitant, but steady. "Like the way you stare at me when you think I'm not looking."
The words hung in the air like a live wire.
Kai's pulse skipped. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?"
Ren's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough weight to make Kai's throat tighten.
He tried to say something—anything—but before he could, Ren stood. "You don't have to admit it," he said quietly. "I just… wanted you to know I'm not blind."
Kai stood too, heart pounding. "Ren—"
"I should go," Ren interrupted, already heading for the door.
Kai's voice rose slightly. "Why do you always do that?"
Ren stopped mid-step. "Do what?"
"Walk away when things get uncomfortable."
Ren turned, eyes flashing. "Maybe because every time I stay, you make it worse."
Kai flinched. "That's not fair."
"It's true."
The air between them thickened, sharp and fragile.
Kai clenched his fists. "You think this is easy for me? You think I want to feel like this?"
Ren's eyes softened for a moment. "Then stop pretending you don't."
That broke something in Kai. The distance he'd been trying to keep suddenly felt unbearable.
He took a step closer. "You're impossible."
Ren's lips curved into a faint smile. "And yet you can't stay away."
Kai wanted to argue, but he couldn't. Instead, he laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You drive me insane."
Ren's tone softened. "Maybe we just bring out the worst in each other."
"Maybe," Kai said. "But… I don't think I'd change it."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension shifted—no longer sharp, but something quieter, something close to understanding.
Ren looked down, fingers fidgeting. "You know," he said softly, "I didn't mean to make you angry. I just… I wanted to matter a little."
Kai's chest tightened. "You already do."
Ren looked up at him, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Do I?"
Kai nodded. "More than you should."
They stood like that for a while, the faint hum of the city drifting through the window. It wasn't a confession, but it felt close enough.
Ren gave a small, tired smile. "You're not so terrible when you're honest."
Kai smirked faintly. "Don't get used to it."
Ren chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. "Guess I'll take what I can get."
Kai leaned back, finally feeling the weight in his chest lift, just a little. "So we're good?"
Ren nodded. "We're good."
A silence followed—comfortable this time.
Kai glanced toward the untouched coffee, then at Ren. "You want to grab a new one? That one's gone cold."
Ren smiled. "Sure. But you're paying."
Kai pretended to think about it. "We'll see."
They walked toward the door together. The tension that had filled the morning had faded, replaced by something uncertain but lighter.
As they stepped into the hallway, Ren glanced at him, his voice barely audible.
"I mean… relationships aren't all that bad…" Ren muttered.
A trace of hope and confusion appeared on Kai's face. "What do you mean?.."