change of heart | jumin han x reader

03

A long moment passes as we sit in the quiet, and I realize she is the only person working in the office and that everyone else is enjoying the holiday.

"You're right," I finally answer as I stand from the chair and cross the room to the doorway. "It's not your place. But I do appreciate that you think so highly of me, Assistant Kang." She simply nods with a somewhat confused expression as I walk away, entering my own office and closing the door behind me. There is a stack of papers on my desk as tall as Jaehee's, threatening to topple over if I breathed on it the wrong way. I sit down and decidedly bury myself in my work, pushing unwanted thoughts to the back of my head as I read and review and sign, repeat, over and over until the light pollution is visible on the night sky line from my panels of windows.

I look down at my watch finally; it's past two in the morning and Jaehee said goodbye a few hours ago, telling me not to work too hard, but still work hard enough to meet the deadlines. I rest my head on my desk for a moment and it feels like this has been the cycle for an endless loop in my life. It wasn't that the work was too hard or I was too tired to do it; I genuinely enjoyed the business and everything that came with it. I liked being responsible and efficient and important. Nothing was as exciting as a deal with a new client or growing company, signing my name on the dotted line and starting something new. I enjoyed meetings with the company and I enjoyed chatting with my coworkers, and I liked that it was a family business despite being worth more than a billion dollars. It wasn't a supposed longing for a change in career that left me feeling a sinking emptiness in the pit of my chest when I laid my head on my desk after grinding away into the late hours of the night. The tangled web of strings in my head in these moments seemed to pull taut, the friction between them so hot that it would burn to touch, a mere wrong move away from snap. I lifted my head up as my phone rang, V's name lighting up the screen.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hello, Jumin," he replied. "How are you? Sorry I didn't answer your call earlier, I was at a lunch with some old friends. Is everything okay? Are you at your father's still?"

"No," I said. "I left shortly before I returned your call. Everything is fine, I guess."

"You guess?" He laughed.

"I mean, not really. He tried to give me my mother's wedding ring as a gift and told me to propose to a woman with it someday." He snorted in response.

"You're shitting me," he answered. V wasn't easy to surprise or catch off guard so his response validated my own.

"Nope. He tried to tell me it was 'a sacred memory' of her and that I was disrespecting her by refusing it."

"Wow," he sighed. "I see why you left. Are you home?"

"No. I'm at the office catching up a bit."

"It's past two in the morning, Jumin. Jesus Christ."

"I like working." I answered.

"I know you do. You are probably the only person in the world who does." He laughed.

"Don't you enjoy your work? You've loved photography since we were in junior high school."

"Of course I do. But my job is fun, yours is the kind of work most people dread. But I suppose it's good since you do genuinely enjoy what you do."

"Yes." I agreed. "There's no point in working hard unless you enjoy it."

"That's right," he said. "Anyways, let me tell you what I called about in the first place. You said you met a woman the other day, right? In a cab?"

"Yes?"

"Was her name (y/n)?"

"How did you know that?" I kept my voice flat, desperate not to show the excitement ready to beam through.

"She told me she met you. We've been friends for quite a few years, and I met with her today and she mentioned the exact story you did in the messenger."

"How are you friends with her?" I prodded. He chuckled.

"She's a painter. We've been in galleries together and are in the same circle; I actually invited her to the last R.F.A. party but she was away on this big show in Europe at the time. I'm shocked that you two by some force met and were interested in each other."

"Why does that surprise you? She was very beautiful. Any man would have been interested."

"You hardly care about beautiful, Jumin, even though that's true. She is very, very different from you."

"I don't understand. What makes her so different from me that it makes you surprised we were interested in each other?"

"Come on, Jumin. She told me exactly how you acted and it should be clear to even you."

I knew what he meant and that he was right; he wasn't trying to discourage me or keep me from seeing her, just pointing out that it was unlikely we would ever meet in another circumstance.

"Well, she wants to see you again regardless," he fills the silence. "I hope you don't let your usual fears of women get in the way of something good."

"I'm not afraid of women. I'm just apprehensive of their intentions."

"I'm telling you now she is not like the women who have approached you in the past. She has enough wealth of her own and I promise she doesn't care about yours either way. Please give her and yourself a chance, Jumin." He explained.

"Okay," I sighed. "Can you do me a favor and send me her number then?"

"Don't worry," I can practically see his shit-eating grin through the phone. "I'll set you guys up. I have to go now. Goodbye, Jumin." Click.

I'm left sitting alone in the hundred story C&R office building, the only other people the few security guards manning the floors overnight. The wave of exhaustion hits me, my eyelids feeling heavy as I analyzed my remaining work. I wanted to return home (I had told Driver Kim to stay around the area until 5 in the morning, since I anticipated working late), but I also knew if I kept going a bit longer I could get ahead and avoid coming in tomorrow, when there was the possibility of seeing my father. I sat in thought a while, indecision weighing me down. My phone buzzed with a text from V.

I hope you don't have plans next Sunday at 1, I'll send you the address where (y/n) wants to meet. Be nice.

I roll my eyes at the last part; I spent hours on hours learning etiquette and manners as a child, scolded for the smallest shortcoming, as if he didn't know that. I visualize my calendar in my head, realizing he suggested Sunday because he knows I don't work then because of my religion. Most people would think this was V being considerate; I knew after many years being close he was doing it so I couldn't have an excuse not to show up.

I decided to work through the night, the white hot feeling of anticipation for Sunday burning in my chest as I desperately tried to bury myself in endless papers. (Y/n)'s face kept pushing it's way to the forefront of my mind though, her features blurry from time and unfamiliarity. The thought of being able to remember her face whenever I wished was pleasant. V was right before; I did not care about beauty, hardly looking in any woman's general direction unless it was for the company. Even the many models and actresses who approached me didn't grab my attention; my brain seemed to completely avoid anything as indulgent as looking at someone just because they were attractive. (Y/n) made me feel confused though, my brain clawing to recall the details of her expressions and voice. I dug myself deeper in my work, as well as deeper into the thought of (y/n)...