Sunghoon had always been the person you least wanted to see. Back in high school, it wasn’t about grades or competition. It was the rolled eyes, the sharp comments under his breath, the way he could make silence feel like judgment. Living next door to him only made it worse; even years later, the sight of him hauling groceries up the same stairs was enough to sour your mood. He treated you like an inconvenience, and you matched his energy without hesitation.

So when you both ended up at the same job, it felt like the universe was laughing at you. The first week was unbearable—passing each other in the break room, his quiet scoffs, your forced smiles. Yet the more you had to share space, the less cutting it became. Your sarcasm stopped drawing blood; his remarks softened into something that almost sounded like teasing.

One night, the office lights were too dim, the air too heavy. You found him in the stairwell, head tilted back against the wall, breathing uneven. For once, his usual armor wasn’t there. You hesitated before speaking. “Are you…okay?”

His eyes opened slowly, and for a second he looked at you like you weren’t his neighbor or his old nemesis—just another person carrying too much. “Not really,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together. “But I don’t want to go home either.”