Caught (Sangwoo x Reader)

37: The Release

"You're Oh Sangwoo?"

"Yes, sir. Prisoner number 80294756120."

The parole officer looked over the ghost of a man leaning on the doorjamb for support. He was nothing like the usual gray-faced prisoner with rough stubble on his sagging cheeks; his eyes were alight in the dim cell. He had that expression the entire day that he was being released. Not so much the day he comes back for another stretch... The officer had his doubts. Prisoners, regardless of how conventionally attractive, were rarely reformed by prison-- only removed from society.

"Get in here then, and strip down. Your wife dropped off a change of clothes for you."

That was unusual. Typically a wife brought a few things in a sack when she arrived, but an impressive set of brown paper-wrapped packages had arrived yesterday by courier, with a letter tied securely to the largest package.

Sangwoo's pale face brightened at the sight of it. He swaggered heavily over to the table holding the items and tugged the letter loose. He leaned against the table with a long sigh.

"She's not my wife. I'm not that lucky."

With a soft eyeroll, the officer showed that had no sympathy. His drive to become a police officer had been quickly ended by a drunk driver when he was in his twenties, relegating him to nothing more but a glorified office clerk, sorting through the illiterate scribbling of the prisoners' correspondence and paperwork.

"We're headed to the halfway house after you change. There you can find a room, empty your personal belongings and take a shower. Check-in is at eight in the morning and at night. We also do bed checks randomly throughout the night. Figure out which package is your clothes and let's move it."

Sangwoo paused.

"What can I call you?" He asked politely.

"Officer Pak," was the gruff response.

With a slight shrug, Sangwoo undid the first package's thick twine and folded back the paper. Atop was a cake of soap wrapped in cellophane. It sat on two thick towels. A set of small towels were folded under them.

"Is there hot water?" Sangwoo asked, looking around the other packages for clothes.

"If you shower soon enough."

Starting to unbutton his overshirt, he said, "Excuse me."

"Do you need something?" He shot back, as if expecting to be verbally assaulted. Sangwoo didn't have it in him.

He glanced to the ajar cell door. "Would you excuse me? I just want a little privacy... If I can..."

"No." Officer Pak crossed his arms. "We're to watch."

Sangwoo's face darkened. There was the flash of the criminal; the reason he was here.

"Why?" he growled. "You look up our asses when we come in; why do you need to do it now that I'm leaving?"

"Smuggling notes or other contraband out," he drawled. He checked his pocket watch. "Hurry it up, Oh. I've got another man after you. He wants to get out of here too."

Clenching his jaw and counting to ten to calm down, Sangwoo disrobed quickly, only staggering a bit when he pulls his pants off and he tripped on the fabric. He enjoyed the clothes you had sent him; a blue hoodie and black joggers. You had even sent in some plain cotton boxer briefs and socks. It almost brought a tear to his eye that you cared. The clothes he had been brought in with were practically destroyed and the rest were at his home.

Sangwoo turned his back to his parole officer, showing him his ass-- slightly as an insult-- and began to dress.