Chapter Text
Choi Seungcheol stood at his office window, looking out at the grand city down below. Even in the middle of a workday, it was bustling with life, cars honking and people walking about, tending to their own lives, each with a different motivation and unknown story. From the seventeenth floor, where his office sat, he had an easy view of it all, yet he rarely took it in, too busy with documents, phone calls, and meetings. Today, though, today was different.
He clutched his phone tightly in his hand, the call long over, but the words repeating themselves over and over again in his already racing head. He had glimpses of his youth, of lingering touches and whispered promises that flew away like cherry blossoms in summer. That part of his life had long been over, even if he thought of it time and time again. He never expected it to return with an ending.
A knock on his office door startled him, and he shifted from the window to his desk, pretending he had been there all along. After a moment of silence, his secretary shuffled in, eyes curious at his boss's strange behavior, but never asking. He knew better.
"Mr. Choi, is there anything I can get you? I just sent those files to the twentieth floor."
Seungcheol sighed, hoping that his voice was at its usual and calm level. "Thank you, Jisoo-ssi. I actually do have a favor."
He quickly scribbled an address down on a sticky note and passed his card along with it. "Please send wreaths to this address."
Jisoo reached for it, but frowned when he noticed the card. "Sir, this isn't the company card."
Seungcheol's smile was forced and tight. "I know. It's personal, and I would appreciate it if you kept it a secret."
Jisoo was quick to bow. "Of course, sir. I will get started on it straight away."
With that, the secretary left his office, no doubt already working to complete the task. He was efficient and tended to Seungcheol's every whim, no matter how strange it was. It was how he managed to keep his position for all these years. Seungcheol was about to lean back in his desk chair and continue drowning in his thoughts, but his office door opened once more without a knock or warning. Jisoo knew better, and Seungcheol quickly sat up, realizing it was his mother.
She often stopped by, as she had an equal share in the company she had built with her husband many years ago. Her office was on the twenty-second floor, but Seungcheol had only been there a handful of times. Most of the time, she came down to his office. Sometimes, she came to nag him; other times, she came to check in on him, and other times, she would invite him to lunch. She wasn't a bad mother, and Seungcheol would consider himself close to her, but sometimes, she was...too much. From the look on her made-up face, Seungcheol knew it was a nagging type of day, and he braced himself.
"Seungcheol," She started.
"Mother." He mimicked her tone.
She gave him a look that never failed to make him sit up straighter. "To what do I owe the honor?"
"I just saw your secretary placing an order for wreaths. Is there an event I'm missing out on?"
Seungcheol shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "An acquaintance of mine passed away." He settled on telling her.
It wasn't quite the truth. Rina had been more than a friend, a former part of Seungcheol that no longer existed, but she was a ghost of his youth now. He knew if he told his mother, who had actually died, she might have said something he didn't want to hear. His mother's face fell a little, not used to seeing her son in such a way.
"I'm sorry to hear that." And she sounded sincere.
She wasn't a cruel or heartless woman. She knew she stood in a place of power and privilege, and she never tried to abuse it, but she also knew there was an image to uphold, traditions to keep. She wanted her children to be happy, but she also believed that there was a certain way of doing things.
Seungcheol tiredly looked up at his mother. "Is there something you needed?" He asked.
She was silent for several moments, as if debating with herself. She finally settled on a decision and sat in one of the extra chairs he kept in his office. "I realize this is poor timing with the recent news you've received, but I am hosting a dinner party this weekend and I would like you to be in attendance."
Dinner was nothing new. He usually had dinner with his parents once every month or so, but a dinner party was different. He hadn't attended a dinner party in years. His mother hosting one was code for a matchmaking session.
"Mother, I really don't want to date right now." He told her, wanting to stop this before it even happened.
She gave him a soft but exasperated look. "Seungcheol, you're thirty now. I've given you the chance to do as you please and find what you wanted on your own. I'm sorry that Mina-"
"Rina." Seungcheol interrupted, wincing when he heard how rough his voice sounded. "Her name was Rina." He added, his voice now a bit softer.
Her name was harder to say than usual. The news was hitting even harder. It felt more real saying her name. He choked down his emotions as he focused his attention back on his mother. She looked a little taken aback but nodded, correcting herself just the same.
"Rina," She continued. "I'm sorry you two didn't work out, but it isn't a reason to be alone forever. Ever since your brother's-"
He interrupted her once more. "Please don't bring him into this. That isn't fair to any of us."
She considered his words a moment before, once again, nodding in agreement. "You're right, that isn't fair." She let out a long sigh. "Your father and I aren't getting any younger, Seungcheol. I'm not saying this to guilt-trip you. I don't want you to settle and marry simply because I want you to produce an heir for this company. I want you to settle so I have time to see you happy and enjoy my grandchildren while I'm still around to do so. I would let you do it on your own, but it seems you need the extra push. Just please, come to dinner, at least try."
She was pleading now, and Seungcheol was beginning to see her for who she really was. She wasn't the powerful chairwoman of a multi-million dollar company. She was simply a mother, asking for her son to find happiness. Could he really deny her that?
"Okay, I'll come to dinner." He promised. "But no marriage talk before desert."
A small smile graced her face. "Deal."
She stood from the chair with grace and elegance that could only come from her many years. "Thank you, Seungcheol."
He nodded, pleased that she was at least happy, but it didn't last long.
"I know your brother won't come to dinner, but he is doing alright, isn't he?" She asked next.
It was a difficult subject, his brother. What had happened had shaken the entire family, and their parents had been heartbroken when the younger chose to live with Seungcheol rather than them. He hadn't seen anyone but his brother and the house staff in over a year, refusing each time someone extended a hand out. He was too angry, too ashamed to see anyone.
"He stays locked in his room. Mrs. Park tries to get him to come out for meals or a bit of time outside, but he refuses each time. All his nurses have quit within the week. I'm currently looking for another."
He didn't want to lie to her. Wonwoo was her son too, her youngest, her baby. She deserved to know what was happening, but when Seungcheol saw the heartbroken expression on her face, he wished he had lied to her and said that he was doing well, that he was trying his best despite everything. He knew she worried about Wonwoo; they all did, but a mother's worry was different. It was a worry that was all-encompassing. He feared she would worry herself into illness.
"We're working on it. He's at least talking." He tried, hoping to lessen the blow a bit.
For the first few months, Wonwoo wouldn't speak a single word. At first, Seungcheol thought it to be from shock, but it seemed to go deeper than that. Gradually, his brother spoke again, a word here and there, and then full sentences, even daring to yell at his hyung. Seungcheol had endured the yelling, deeming it to be better than the suffocating silence.
"Your father keeps saying it won't last forever, that he'll adjust, but it feels like I've lost him." She admitted, voice unnaturally small and quiet.
"You haven't," Seungcheol reassured her, not telling her that he often felt the same way. If it wasn't for the shouting or the obnoxious noises from his PC at all hours of the night, Seungcheol would feel like Wonwoo was gone as well. His mother didn't need to hear that right now.
"Father's right. It'll be okay, in time."
She inhaled deeply. "Right." She took another breath. "That was all I stopped by for. Thank you for agreeing to dinner."
With that, she left his office, and Seungcheol was left with his thoughts once more.