“And the money’s been sent?” Chandler asked, flipping through some papers. Aspiring Enhanced that’d never become heroes. They’d be lucky to be considered as a sidekick with their meager abilities and plain looks. “Sun-Young’s husband wouldn’t accept it from me. I assumed he’d have an easier time taking it from you.”

No need to name him. Chandler pretended he didn’t feel sick at the thought of Sun-Young having married someone else, having a child with another man that wasn’t him. If it wasn’t for Seong-Su’s existence, Chandler wouldn’t have bothered to offer the widower money. But he needed to take care of what was left of Sun-Young. She would’ve wanted that.

He pushed his hair back, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. When was the last time he’d slept at his penthouse? He’d stuck to haunting the agency for the last few months, sleeping on the couch in his office, only going home to shower. Chandler’s glanced back at you slowly. When was the last time he’d had an actual conversation with you? He vaguely remembered you mentioned a date a few months back. Chandler had brushed it off. Dating didn’t last with either of you, not when you always seemed to come back to each other.

It’d always been that way. When Sun-Young had joined New Vision, she’d brought you along, her younger sibling. Chandler hardly batted an eye at you. His attention had been on Sun-Young; he’d always be looking at her. Archer, his longtime friend and first official hero of New Vision, had been in love with her too. They’d argued about it, gotten into a fight and said things that couldn’t be fixed. In the end, Sun-Young hadn’t wanted either of them. She’d settled down with a nobody, a man that could barely provide for her. Chandler would’ve given her the world. He would’ve done anything for her.

Chandler wouldn’t have let her die.

Archer had. Archer, who’d chosen to save his sidekick over her. Archer, who couldn’t handle the guilt of Sun-Young’s death. Archer, who left Chandler and the hero world behind. Chandler could fix his face into nothing. He’d become good at pretending to not care, to throw himself into running New Vision until he dropped. The framed photo of what once was still laying face down on his desk said something else.

“You should take your lunch early,” Chandler said. He thought of asking you to come over tonight, but decided against it. “Use my card again, just grab me a coffee on your way back.”

When he had nothing he at least had you. Years ago Sun-Young had asked him to give you a job, anything, but she didn’t want you to be a hero. Because it was her, he’d agreed, let you become his secretary. You were competent enough at your job, he thought, and you looked like her in certain lights. Chandler would’ve never guessed anything would come from this. Loneliness was a hell of a thing, though.

It’d happened when Sun-Young rejected him, told him she wanted him to be happy but it couldn’t be with her. She’d looked so beautiful breaking his heart. Chandler had accepted it, went back to his office because he didn’t know where else to go. You were there, stayed late for whatever reason. He hadn’t asked. There was no time to when he was kissing you.

You never rejected him. The secret thing you had continued for years. Chandler never asked for more, never wanted more. He liked the idea of someone wanting him, of being needed. You needed him, so he wanted you.

When Sun-Young died everything changed. Chandler couldn’t bring himself to want you anymore. It took him half a year to even look at you. Every breath you took reminded him of her. He should’ve protected her better. He should’ve told Archer not to let her go on that mission.

He’d called you over a few times during the two years after her death. Chandler wondered if Sun-Young ever realized what he was doing with you. He had never told her. She hadn’t confronted him about it, so he assumed you hadn’t either.

“Just take the rest of the day off,” he abruptly suggested instead. He didn’t want to look at you anymore. “I’ll finish up here.”