Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack…

An old grandfather clock ticked faintly among the chit-chatters of the guests. Its arm swinging from right to left, moving like a hypnotizing pendulum slowly with a continuous beat over and over again. Ticking on its own all day long without its end in sight.

Y/n stared at her notebook in frustration. Lines after lines, words after words both written down and crossed out on the yellowed pages of an originally supposed diary that she had already used for a few years as a notebook for her assignments. Filled with both pointless and important works she had to do in the past and will do in the future. She had a portion of her hair in her fist with only a few strands sticking out between her fingers. With each passing second, each time the clock across the room made another tapping sound, her dissatisfaction with the task she was given from one of her professors increased.

Before she could write or attempt to scribble another word of allegedly higher meaning in her notebook, she felt her brain finally giving in and melting like a piece of butter in a heated pan. With a groan, y/n set her pen next to the cursed thing and released her hair from her grip. As the collected stress of being able to write at least one decent line for that poetry assignment finally ceased she let herself sink into the chair. I hate university.

She took a glance at the grandfather clock again. The well-crafted ebony clock decorated with detailed ornaments of flowers and a silver pendulum was one of the few charming antiques the café inhabited. Each tick and tack being a gentle sound to the ear. Perfect for relaxing.

“Miss, do you want another cup of americano?”, a waiter grabbed her empty cup and placed it onto a plastic tablet.

“Yes please” y/n murmured. Loud enough for the waiter to register and silent enough for the tapping of the clock to be heard. Her gaze averted back to the time-telling object thinking more about the poem she’s supposed to write by Monday. Should it be about modern-day society, something she likes, or a highly philosophical problem? Or maybe even the frustration of specific tasks her professors want of her? Surely they wouldn’t question a system-critical piece of literature in their pockets denouncing their long-thought-about assignments. Right? Surely they wouldn’t grade her badly if she even only pondered to mention one horrible thing about the horrific stress of exactly that poetry assignment. Don’t be stupid, y/n. Coping won’t get you far.

“Do you like it?”

Huh? She switched her view to the source of the voice. The waiter still stood next to her table while smiling with that typical employee smile though at a second look that smile seemed more bubbly than forced. He seemed excited to hear her answer until his visage dropped slightly as soon as she raised an eyebrow at his question. He carefully guided his free hand into the air in front of him. “The clock I mean”, The waiter corrected himself.

Y/n looked at the old thing once more. An old antique clock. Nothing more, nothing less. It was just a decor that could tell the time in the end. However, it did calm her down from the stress of her assignment.

“It's just a clock”, she turned her gaze to the waiter. The smile on his face seemed to struggle to stay stable, but instead of the once before timid look his face gave off, his brows furrowed together in an annoyed manner. Now this looked more like those fake customer service smiles. Slowly the waiter moved his free hand next to his hip. “For it ‘just being a clock’ you started a bit too long at it” Y/n shot a glare at him immediately and he clicked a small apology before returning into the depths of the café again. What a weird guy.

Before even having the thought to return to trying to solve the hardship called writing a poem she rested her head on her flimsy notebook. Her head turned to the window next to her in the small establishment, looking at the dust particles dancing in the golden sunlight in a slow simple waltzer. The sunlight being its spotlight, and the table being its stage. The perfect small-scale ballroom for anything smaller than a pencil tip and the perfect sight to slowly doze off into a small nap.

Or she thought till her few moments of silence were interrupted by a notification coming from her phone. A small beeping that gradually could wake anyone from their slumber if spammed continuously. She picked up the electric device and checked for the source of the noise. It was Felix, the guy she met a few days ago. He texted her that he was done with his lecture and would now come to the café where she was. Initially, the reason why y/n was at this place was because he had invited her. With a smile, she replied to his message and put her phone aside.

Soon after the familiar smell of freshly brewed americano breached her nostrils. The waiter was back again with her coffee as well as a small treat. “Here your americano Miss” With another raised brow she mid-air took the small coffee plate with the cup of energizing liquid on top of it out of the waiter's hand and placed it on her table herself. Soon after the plate with a baked good followed though he made sure she wouldn't steal the plate out of his hands again by lightly slapping the reaching hands with his free one. “I hope you accept this blueberry muffin as an apology for the earlier inconvenience”

“You didn't have to, you know?” She grabbed the coffee and took a sip. A nice americano to stir up her energy to focus on the rest of the day.

“You could at least acknowledge the free treat.” he fired back, looking away from her.

“The free blueberry muffin is nice don't get me wrong, but — as I said — you didn't have to” Quickly the waiter was back to his reserved state. An uncomfortable silence grew that not even the clock across the room could solve. While he waited for y/n to say something she just drank her coffee slowly enjoying the taste. And she sipped and sipped till the frustration in the waiter’s head had risen to a maximum. Surprisingly the coffee had the right temperature to not burn your tongue.

The doorbell rang. A blond blob of something closed the door behind itself and searched from left to right until her and its gaze met. It rushed towards the table and beneath its bangs it revealed a freckled man. Or in other words, Felix.

“Sorry for coming late! My lecture went longer than expected.” swiftly he set down his book bag onto a free chair and took one of the free seats in front of her. He quickly pulled off his jacket and threw it on another empty seat.

He turned his head to the other guy, “An espresso please”. Silence fell again. Between the waiter and Felix, nothing was said for a moment before he gasped in surprise “Jisung?” Before y/n could process the situation the waiter jumped at him in relief. “I almost thought you forgot me!” With a theatrical sob he hugged him tighter “Why didn't you tell me you would come here today? My shift is about to end!”

As they both seemed to be in their own world y/n coughed at the notice that the other guests were watching the emotional duo. The waiter, or Jisung, released the hug while Felix smiled a bit ashamed. Immediately he explained to her what this interaction was about “Jisung here is my friend. We often meet at this café to chat with each other” The waiter proudly nodded.

She stared at the two for a short second and then returned back to her coffee. “She is a bit difficult to talk to” Jisung whispered in Felixs’ ear. Though his try of keeping that comment secret failed miserably as she could hear the full remark plus the irritated tone to it clearly. “I heard that”

The waiter stopped any attempt at an interaction and simply went away while writing on his notes Felix’s order.

“How was the lecture?” Y/n asked while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Ah, it was fine,” He said. “Our professor was a bit mad at us for not having completed the work we were supposed to do till next Wednesday. He is a bit mad.”

“What was it about?”

“Preparing a visit for a hygiene museum trip.” he raised a finger “Weird thing is that I don’t remember museum trips being an activity in university. Our professor said it’s a mandatory bonding experience and while I am not really against it, it just seems questionable to do. Though the lecture he is teaching only has like twenty people since it’s not a mandatory course.” She heard of these kinds of professors that, especially in smaller courses, try to befriend their students as the sizes of people taking the course is comparable to the amounts of students in a school classroom. But she did agree with him. Trips like these aren’t really part of university as everyone has to organize themselves and the amount of people taking a course and sitting in a lecture is too huge for such personal events like a trip. Definitely a strange thing to do.

Y/n noticed inside Felix’s bag was something green and blue while he continued sharing his ramblings about his professor he deemed crazy. It seemed as if something too big was in that bag, but also something fragile. As he noticed that she wasn’t paying attention to his stories, but rather the object of transportation of smaller items he opened the thing with care and gently lifted the mystery item inside.

It revealed a beautiful bouquet of blue morning glories that seemed to be professionally made with gratitude and respect. “I wanted to give you something. Since I don’t really know what you like I thought this bouquet might be good enough.” Felix held the bouquet towards her, “You practically saved my life when you helped me get back to my faculty” He laughed shyly. “I hope this doesn’t come across as weird.” With a smile, he once more ushered her to take the bundle of beautifully bound together flowers.

“It’s fine, don't worry.” Y/n took the bouquet out of his hands and laid it aside on the wooden table to a place where it wouldn’t get stained by any liquid or food. “Thank you. I make sure to find a nice spot for it in my apartment” She watched as his shoulders relaxed in relief. “It was a real mess finding a store that sells bouquets with those flowers. I heard that morning glories represent gratitude and aren’t as common for a gift so yeah.” Felix explained and proceeded to show her on his phone a few stores he tried until he got to the one where he finally managed to order a bouquet.

“Reminds me when I once tried to get a gift in secondary school for a friend of mine at that time”

“Wait, what did you try to get them?”

Honestly, Y/n wasn’t sure if she would tell him the story of how she once had to search all bookstores in the city for a special edition of a One Piece Manga for her childhood friend Jeongin. After fighting concerns of any invading privacy matters that conversation could bring she had to remind herself that first of all she no longer wasn’t in contact with Jeongin anymore and secondly she wasn’t even sure if Jeongin was reading Manga anymore. “So do you know One Piece?”

“You mean that Anime?” Felix asked in curiosity.

“Yeah, that one! The gift had something to do with a special edition of one of the Manga volumes” Y/n took a bite of her blueberry muffin, devouring the last bits of it in one go and refueling her energy so she could tell the story without getting tired again. “Since Manga wasn’t that popular a few years ago I had quite the trouble finding that special edition. I don’t even know where my friend at that time got that information about the existence of a special edition at all, but I remembered that he wanted it really badly. I knew a few bookstores at that time that had small sections in their branches for these books, but only with normal editions.”

“I remember Thalia had very early special editions of Manga”

“Yep! That’s where I ended up buying my gift for him. It’s not that special of a story to be honest, but yeah” She took a glance at her bouquet of morning glories and proceeded to ask Felix “Do you like Anime or Manga?” He smiled at her apologetically “I watched a few of the popular ones, but nothing else” then shifted in his seat, grabbed his cup of espresso, and slurped at it before his face frowned like a cat because of how hot the drink was. Though honestly she hasn't even noticed a waiter placing the drink there.

“Are you good?” Y/n was ready to order him a glass of water, but Felix declined her help after relaxing his facial muscles.

“Sorry for that. I am kind of sensitive to hot drinks” He fixed his posture again and smiled again.

“I am too, usually I drink some cold water though to help the pain” She once more searched for a waiter in the café.

“You really don’t have to! I don’t want to burden you anymore.” he reached for her rising arm, but y/n just shook him off like nothing and waved at a local waiter to come and get her order. “Don’t worry, this one more time won’t hurt you” She grinned and then told the waiter to get them a cold glass of water. As fast as the waiter had appeared at their table as soon he was gone again and left both Felix, who still was either mad or sad at her for helping him, and y/n alone.

Though he did look cute while pouting.

“What were you doing by the way before we met? Seems like you have studied” He pointed at the notebook and pen laying right next to her unintentionally bringing back up the uncomfortable memories of the work given by the devil himself to her. That poetry assignment. That wicked assignment she wished she could skip. How it made her blood boil and her brain explode, how it made her fingertips go numb and wrists hurt. No Y/n calm down…it’s just poetry. “Ah that chaos is because of a shitty poetry assignment that can go fuck itself” With a smirk she shoved all remains of writing utensils back into her bag as if it never existed, never had damaged her so mentally and never had even crossed one of the synopsizes in her professors mind.

Felix broke into laughter at her comment. “You don’t seem too happy about it. Never wrote a poem?”

“Why should I?” The smirk quickly turned into a confused face.

“Poetry seems like a fun hobby you try and either go with it or not.” He once again tried to drink his coffee despite it being still hot. Luckily the waiter arrived in time with the cold glass of water. With a rushed thanks Felix took it and started slurping out of it.

“Have you ever tried poetry?”

“No, but other things like taekwondo.” He drank that glass of water almost empty and grabbed a napkin to clean his mouth. “To be honest, ‘trying’ doesn't count here for taekwondo. I did it for a pretty long time honestly, but had to quit then because of university.” As he removed the napkin he crumpled it and laid it aside on his coffee plate. “What are your hobbies btw?”

Y/n thought for a second. Watching Netflix surely doesn’t count? It’s more productive than doom scrolling on social media though. She could’ve mentioned that during the last years of secondary school, she started to go swimming for a bit, though she didn’t pursue that activity anymore, because her friend from that time had no time for it after graduating. So Netflix it is… “When I don’t have to do stuff for uni I just watch Netflix”

“What is your favorite show?”

“I only watch movies,” she tapped on the table lightly. “I don’t really have a favorite movie though, same goes for genres. I just watch what seems interesting enough I guess” She stopped tapping. “Do you have a favourite show or movie though?”

“I mostly play video games like Genshin Impact.” Ah, a gamer. “Wait let me check the time” He turned on his phone. “Ay, it’s that late already? I have to go now.” Felix turned to a nearby waiter to get the paycheck. “I pay for her as well” “Hey!”

He winked at her and then paid with his credit card.

Slowly he rose from his seat “Well then I’ll be going. Was nice chatting with you! I hope we can meet again, bye!” with a final wave he left the café in urgency and left y/n befuddled alone at her table.

With a sigh, she tried to shove the bouquet of flowers into her bag. Seems like this was the perfect moment to leave and go home. As she pulled her jacket over her arms and shoulders she took a last glance at the grandfather clock across the room again, still ticking in all calmness. Not gonna lie, he is kinda cute. With a last pull of her bag over her back she headed towards the entrance door as well. As the bell of the door rang she stepped outside on the stone pavement and back into the chaotic outside of the city. The sun was already setting behind the tall buildings and marking the end of that Saturday.

Time to go home and finish that goddamn poetry assignment.

Chapter Text

She tapped with her pencil on the desk while scrolling on the internet for poem ideas. Everything was about love this, love that and pouring true feelings into the mess of rhymes and words or just pretentious trash about society that could be on a meme Sub-Reddit. She decided to write a love poem, a low effort task, probably. But how was Y/n supposed to do that when she currently had no feelings for anyone or no huge regrets about past ones? Well she could write a fake love poem and let some TV tropes flow into it for the right feel. Was there anyone keeping her from doing it? No. Would the teacher notice? Probably not.

Yet another issue came along. Should the poem tell a story or tell feelings? A mix of both would be easy to get the required verse amount for sure, but what should the story be? She leafed through her notebook in hopes of finding some inspiration in the old diary entries when she first bought the book. Useless. Everything was just ramblings about school topics, homework and a bit of documentation of what she did in her free time on certain days with her friends. Did she really not document the people she fell in love with? Somehow that was embarrassing to Y/n.

Then, it suddenly struck her mind.

What if the story of the love poem was about someone admiring a person from afar and being too shy to just confess to them? Bingo! Y/n raised the pencil and struck it down at the paper with full enthusiasm. She thought for a second and then scribbled the first few words.

When I saw you that day

My heart was struck

Yet I never found a way

To tell you my love.

Four of the sixteen verses are complete. That was easier than she thought. Yet how did she wanna continue the story without making the lyrical I being a complete creep and stalker? Why was that even my first thought? Nah, better give it some context to be safe. She held her pencil slightly above the paper, staring through the lines in hopes of finding the setting for the love story. Maybe a work romance? University? With a work romance the someone would have a lot of opportunities to see their love interest without coming off as creepy given the setting of being co-workers. It was ideal. She placed the pencil on the next line.

Everyday when you work

My heart pounds loud

I can’t stop to lurk

She stopped. What the hell rhymes on loud? She thought for a second. House, mouse, crowd…loud? That didn’t seem to work. Quickly she tipped on the keyboard in front of her, pressed enter and then clicked on a few websites revealing lists of words that rhymed on loud like bowed, cloud, proud. Y/n stared at her previous progress reading the last three verses over and over again.

I wish we were vowed? No, that sounds a bit creepy. She looked at the other words from the website a bit. Rhymes necessarily hadn’t to be written the same or similar to work. An idea struck her mind. Loud and far, doesn’t sound similar, but maybe it wouldn’t disturb the reading flow.

Everyday when you work

My heart pounds loud

I can’t stop to lurk

But you’re so far.

It worked somehow. Yet the not matching rhyme still icked Y/n. She tried to think of some alternatives. I am so proud , You are my cloud . These seemed to rhyme, but who calls someone their cloud? Why would someone be proud? Her brain felt fried. I need some water.

She shoved the chair away and then back against the desk. In the sunlight, Y/n noticed the blue petals of the morning glories from Felix shine. A beautiful bouquet in blue that calmed every mind when watching it bloom with the most perfect lighting it could have. She made sure to give it a good spot in her room on the windowsill heading south so it would get the most sunlight in the day. Even if it was standing in a glass she stole from the kitchen. I should buy a vase tomorrow after the lecture.

She turned around to the door and stepped towards it. Slowly opening the old wood and going into the hallway of the small apartment. She went past the door of her roommate, some random guy that took her in for paying less rent, and entered the kitchen-living room combination. A few dirty plates were scattered among the counters along with a few glasses. She opened one of the shelves, took out one and filled it with cold water at the sink.

After a few sips, she refilled the glass and slowly took it back to her room, grabbing a chocolate bar on the way. With a shut of the door behind her Y/n placed the glass next to her notebook and ripped open the packaging of the chocolate bar, devouring the snack in only a few seconds. Back to poem writing!

The idea of You are my cloud was a good start. Not ideal, but a step forward. She could change cloud to house making the line You are my house . It would be weird to say You are my home , but it would rhyme, make sense, and maybe sound strange, but it could work. She struck through the initial verse and replaced it.

Everyday when you work

My heart pounds loud

I can’t stop to lurk

But you're so far.

You are my house.

It sounded weird, strange, absurd. I hate poetry . Maybe she should keep it just like this. Just accept whatever that last verse was and embrace the imperfections it caused in the rhyming mess. I want to get out.

Wait… It rhymed and it would give the poem a sort of sad vibe. It could mean that the lyrical I wanted to confess, or were trapped in their shyness. She let it go on her tongue again. I… want… to… get… out…

She crossed through the last verse and wrote down the new verse. The former was weird anyway.

Everyday when you work

My heart pounds loud

I can’t stop to lurk

But you're so far.

You are my house.

I want to get out.

She smiled at her notebook. Great! But that feeling was soon to be gone when she tapped her pencil repeatedly on the desk again. Before she could cause herself any more headaches from that thing, she decided to continue writing the last eight ones. Or she thought until the pain of no ideas started to slowly infect her mind. She took a sip of water from her glass and hoped to find inspiration in the flowers she got gifted, her notebook she had since ages and on the world wide web. Yet these tries didn't really give her any idea at all.

It wasn't like she didn't find anything, but it sorta didn't suit her vision for the poem that was slowly forming. Some of the things felt too artificial, too fake, too fictional and maybe even a bit too out of character for the protagonist of her piece of literature in making. Or just that an important part was missing. The too utopic date ideas aside, how would they confess to someone they only knew as a co-worker. Even though Y/n had a few partners in her life already, she gladly had the luck that she knew them beforehand and could easily confess to them. But the more she thought about a way of confession for the person in her poem, the more she realised that she had no clue at all on how that could work for someone who didn't have that fortune.

She let her head fall onto her notes and scribblings. Maybe she just needed a short break so her brain could refuel itself. Y/n closed her eyes in a slow motion and imagined the characters of her poem. How someone always watches the person and raves about them and how they never had the courage to come to them and confess their feelings. Splatter. She just imagined the countless days the two worked together, how they always admired the person from afar. Crash . Maybe, the someone tried to write love letters, but thought that was childish? Maybe they wanted to gift chocolate or flowers to their loved one during Valentine's? Groan.

Huff

Silence.

Scream

Y/n raised her head.

Cry

She stood up. I swear to god if he doesn’t stop. The bloody noises continued loudly. She headed to her room's door and opened it. She stepped towards the door of her roommate. Splash. She waited a few seconds. Crash. She knocked at the door. Saw. She knocked harder on the wood.

…

The door opened as soon as she heard the sounds go down in volume and a bit of stumbling on the floor. She could have sworn that something fell down in that room.

“What?”

She crossed her arms. “You are loud. Can you watch your movies a bit quieter?”

He rubbed his eyes.

“Why?”

She stared at him.

“You see, I can’t concentrate when I hear people dying all the time.”

He yawned. “Just use headphones.”

Y/n tapped her finger against her arm. “Would be nice if you were more considerate. You could watch that stuff with headphones as well.”

He turned to his room and gazed through it for a second before turning back to her. “I don't have any, probably. ”

“Then turn your volume down.” This guy was the end of her.

“Again, you could just use headphones.”

No longer could she take that injustice from him. Her grip on her own arms tightened as she glared down at him. He stood there with a shrimp-like position caused by his hurry or maybe just bad posture. Y/n didn't know honestly. She never could imagine that guy actually doing something productive. He stared at her, unbothered as always. “This is a matter of mutual respect. I wouldn't bother you if you had just been quieter more often.”

“I am sure you mentioned not having a problem with noise turbulence when you moved here.”

She clicked her tongue. This guy was the end of her. She could have ripped off his head in frustration if he wasn't a living being. “That's nice for you, but you never specified that noise turbulence means you blasting horror movies at full volume”

He stood there silently. Ha, got you! A slight smirk of victory creeped onto her face.

He sighed, “Anyway, that's not my problem”

Nevermind . There is no hope for him . The grin was gone as fast as it came and got replaced by a frown.

“It is, Seungmin.”

He glared at her shortly and then shut the door. Y/n stared at the wooden thing. An axe could chop it down, right? Surely that would make him wake up and be a bit more respectful. No, after that reaction it is clear that he isn't fixable.

Back in her room, she stared at the notebook again. The lines of her poem already burnt into her brain and the inspiration being gone as always. Next to that frustrating reality, the fight from a few minutes ago still had her pissed, making her unable to concentrate on the actual story she wanted for her poem.

She reached for her phone and opened her messenger app.

“Hey, how are you?”

She waited. After a short time of waiting, a new message popped up.

-“I am fine, and you?”

“I guess I am?”

-“Did something happen?” 

Y/n looked at the flower bouquet at the windowsill. I guess it's fine to tell him…

“Just had a fight with my roommate”

“he’s a bit loud sometimes”

The typing symbols appeared again.

-“Man, that sounds awful!”

-“Hope you are doing fine now”

“I am still mad about it”

“But it's not that big of an issue”

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

Suddenly her current situation sparked an inspiration. What if the someone who admired their co-worker was supposed to work together with them and then they started to get closer, only to realise that both of them cannot stand each other at all? She quickly scribbled the first words that got into her head down on the yellowing paper.

One day we were put together,

Yet every time I tried to talk to you

My hopes for love went to never

The notification sound of her phone popped up again. Felix answered, great! Quickly she turned on the screen and typed her password into the digital keyboard.

-”Well I am baking right now”

-”Sorry if I can't reply immediately”

“cool!”

“What are you making?”

-“I am making Brownies”

-”If you want I can bring you some tomorrow”

“You don't have to”

“But thanks”

-”It doesn't bother me”

She would be lying if she didn't crave some sweet snacks right now. It would bring more delight into this stressful task.

“I guess then”

“Where do you wanna meet then?”

-”How about the courtyard near the finance major rooms?”

-”Do you have time around noon?”

“My first lecture ends around 13:00”

-”Great, then let's meet after that!”

Brownies for lunch. Y/n was sure that this might be the best thing to eat after tomorrow's lecture. Especially with that professor, they get really boring quickly. The thought of that matter quickly brought her back to the scribbled verses representing a joke of a poem. Even now her thoughts were devoid of any further ideas. She read through the thing again.

When I saw you that day

My heart was struck

Yet I never found a way

To tell you my love.

Everyday when you work

My heart pounds loud

I can’t stop to lurk

But you're so far.

You are my house.

I want to get out.

One day we were put together,

Yet every time I tried to talk to you

My hopes for love went to never

It struck her and the idea Y/n got flew immediately to paper.

In my vision you were so kind

But that image was now shaken

It feels like you were just a lie

My feelings in a burning haven

One line left , she thought to herself. One mighty line that would complete that work. It could be an epic end verse. Or a verse added to the incomplete mess in the previous strophe. She decided for the former.

Y/n raised the pencil in a slow manner. She stared at the yellowed page. The scribbles and lined through sentences, on her laptop the rhyming websites, the morning glories on her windowsill, the sounds of the horrendous splatter movie by her roommate and the messages from Felix about his brownies - all these things and experiences of that hour passed her mind. Y/n lowered the pencil to the notebook pencil and wrote.

Just who were you all along?

She counted the verses again. 1..2..3….16, perfect! She sighed in relief and closed the notebook. No more poetry for today . Y/n slumped into her seat and soon was sitting on it like a turtle. Now she just had to hope her professor wouldn't grade it badly the next day.

The door slammed open. She turned around… Seungmin.

“Here, an old pair of in-ears I found.”

He tossed a pair of headphones towards her direction. Y/n caught them quickly. “Since when are you-?”

He closed the door again.

She looked at the pair. They were in-ear headphones with cable and an adapter for the phone to connect with. She reached for her phone and plugged the adapter and cable together. As soon as she started playing some music she could hear the groans and screams from her roommate’s room again. These things were shit. Absolute garbage. Where the hell can you even get something of this horrible quality? Did he want to mess with her or did he lazily try to seem like a considerate person for once? It didn't matter to her.

The door opened again.

“Don't forget to clean today, by the way.”

It closed. Y/n stared at the door. Not the cleaning duty…