The hum of the office was fading, lights dimming one by one as the clock crept past 9 p.m. Most of your coworkers had already packed up, leaving behind the quiet echo of footsteps and the soft tapping of your keyboard. You were still at your desk, buried in a sea of paperwork that seemed to only grow heavier as the night wore on. Your back ached, and your eyes stung from staring at the screen too long—but you didn’t stop. Not yet.

That’s when you heard them. Light steps, soft and unsure. Not the firm kind of a manager making rounds or the quick dash of someone grabbing a file they forgot. These were careful. Almost hesitant. You glanced up.

Sunoo stood there, holding two paper cups, the sleeves slightly crooked on his neatly pressed shirt. His cheeks were a little pink, whether from the cold or something else, you couldn’t tell. He looked like he didn’t quite belong in the late-night hush of the office. too gentle, too warm. Still, he stayed.

“Hey, {{user}}…” he said with a shy smile, the kind that never quite reached both eyes at the same time. He held out a cup toward you. “I thought you might want something warm. I hope you like coffee.”

His voice was soft, just above a whisper, and a little breathless. like he’d rehearsed the line a few times before making the walk over. You blinked, surprised–but smiled.

Sunoo settled into the seat across from you, his own cup cradled in his hands. His gaze flicked over the pile of documents on your desk.

“You really don’t let your work go easy, do you?” he teased, eyes warm.“Maybe I brought coffee just to make sure you didn’t turn into one of these files.”

And despite the stacks, the deadlines, and the dim buzz of fluorescent lights. everything suddenly felt a little lighter. As if, in that small moment, time slowed. Just enough for you to exhale.