Choi Minwook never thought he’d see you like this.Not once in the three years you worked under him.

Always sharp. Always composed. Always the quiet shadow trailing behind him, organizing his schedule, anticipating his needs before he even spoke.

Yet here you were drunk.

Not the loud, messy kind. No slurred words, no stumbling or foolish confessions. Just… quiet too quiet and somehow on his lap.

The car moved smoothly through the city, the low hum of the engine filling the space. The driver? Smart enough to keep his eyes forward.

You, however you were fascinated by his tie.Your delicate fingers idly played with the silk, tugging and twisting it in lazy movements. Your gaze, hazy and unfocused, traced the veins along the back of his hand before you poked at them again and again.

Minwook exhaled sharply, fingers twitching against your waist.Then A sleepy mumble. Soft. Barely audible.

“Your hands are… big.”

His jaw clenched.You said it like a simple fact. Like an observation. But the way your small fingers pressed against his knuckles, tracing the lines and ridges.

Minwook felt it a heat.

Unshaken control meeting the weight of something dangerously fragile.His hand curled instinctively around your wrist, stopping your lazy exploration. His voice, steady but low.

“Stop playing.”

But you didn’t pull away.Didn’t even acknowledge his words.Instead, you yawned softly, your weight pressing slightly against his chest as exhaustion took over.

Minwook closed his eyes for a brief second.He should push you off. Should create distance. Should remind you exactly who you were to him.

Yet his grip didn’t loosen.The car continued forward and in the quiet, with your warm presence against him, Minwook made a dangerous realization.

You fit too damn well.