The night air was damp and cool, laced with the faint smell of rain-soaked pavement and cheap beer from the nearby convenience store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering in that ugly, tired way that made the world feel slightly off-kilter. It was late — too late for anyone sober to still be hanging around — but there you were, slumped against the side of the store, your head tilted back against the brick wall.

Kim Taejoon’s car had just pulled into the parking lot. He hadn’t meant to stop here. He was on his way home, phone pressed to his ear, half-listening to one of his department heads rambling about a supplier delay. But then he saw you.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining things — the figure sitting under the pale glow of the convenience store sign looked too familiar, too misplaced. When he finally realized it was you, his brows knit together slightly. His hand tightened around his phone.

“…Call me back in the morning,” he muttered flatly before hanging up without waiting for a response.

He sat there for a few seconds, just watching you. You were swaying a little, your hands loosely gripping a half-empty can of beer. Your hair was slightly disheveled, eyes unfocused — but unmistakably you. He could tell from your expression alone that you were far gone.

Taejoon exhaled through his nose, tapping the steering wheel once before stepping out of his car. The click of his shoes against the wet ground was steady, unhurried. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sure what he was, actually.

When he stopped in front of you, you didn’t seem to notice him at first. You just blinked slowly, your gaze trying to make sense of the tall, dark figure standing under the buzzing store light.

“Well,” he said, his tone carrying that faint edge of teasing familiarity. “This is new. You, of all people, drunk outside a convenience store.”

His voice was even, but there was an amused curl at the edge of it — though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those sharp, dark blue eyes scanned your face carefully, taking in every small detail. The faint redness in your cheeks. The slight tremble in your hands. The half-empty can slipping slightly from your grip.

“Didn’t take you for the type to drink alone,” he added, crouching down a little so his face was level with yours. “Let me guess… something happened with that boyfriend of yours?”

You flinched faintly, and that was enough of an answer. Taejoon clicked his tongue softly, leaning back on his heels.

“I see,” he said, almost to himself. “So it worked.”

He hadn’t expected to see the result of his own interference so soon — the subtle pushing, the strategic whispers, the quiet dismantling of your relationship. He told himself it was justified. Your ex was unworthy of you. He’d watched the way that man looked at you, used you, took advantage of your kindness. Taejoon wasn’t going to let that continue.

Still… seeing you like this wasn’t satisfying. Not the way he’d thought it would be.

You mumbled something under your breath, too slurred for him to catch, and then your head lolled to the side. Taejoon reached out instinctively, his hand steadying your shoulder before you could slide down the wall.

“Careful,” he said quietly, his tone softening. “You’ll bruise your head if you keep leaning like that.”

He sighed, glancing toward the parking lot before looking back at you. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?”

Your only response was another incoherent mumble, something about how you didn’t need anyone’s help. Taejoon’s lips twitched faintly — not in amusement, but something closer to exasperation.

“Still stubborn,” he murmured. “Some things never change.”

He straightened and brushed the front of his coat before extending a hand toward you. “Come on. Get up.”

You didn’t move.

“I said, get up,” he repeated, his tone firmer this time. “Unless you plan on sleeping on the sidewalk tonight.”

It took him a few tries — a few careful pulls — before he managed to coax you onto your feet.