I stare absentmindedly ahead in the elevator as I travel down to the ground floor to go and meet Yoonha outside for lunch. It’s been a few days since his drunken confession, and two days of AWOL childish behavior passed before he finally showed face to act like an adult. And like every other time, we never mentioned it again because this is what he does. Back into the swing of our ordinary lives, it’s brushed under the table as though it never happened and became just another absurd ritual in my life.
I’ve barely seen Jyeon all week as we’re so swamped with work with three new company investments to launch by the end of the month that’s taking all our time. I’ve had an average of two hours of sleep a night, missed so many meals from overtime, and skipped lunch breaks that I’ve dropped a dress size. Hence my lunch date and making time to hang out with my little brother forcing me to eat and take a break. He’s the only one who seems to put me before everything else.
The noise outside the lobby pulls my attention, and I glance up as I walk towards the wall of glass doors, surprised by the crowds of people that seem to be milling right in front of our building. We’re not a company that gets a lot of foot traffic, given our area of expertise, so this is weird. My stomach sinks as I catch sight of some billboards being pulled to hold up, and many turn their backs to face out toward the road to assemble into a long line, spreading the width of our entrance.
It’s a protest. The beginning of one anyway, and something we deal with every so often when a company fails, and we have to pull out our funding and cut our losses. I have a clue who these might be, yet there’s nothing protesting will do for them. Their company went bankrupt, and no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t bring it out of the red despite their marketable product. We got in too late and got out just as fast.
They spent too many years concealing their mistakes and pulled in investors dishonestly when they knew they were going under. We uncovered a whole array of problems and pulled out our money before getting caught up in the legalities of many fraudulent practices that went under the radar with their existing management. OLO wasn’t responsible for its demise, but it’s not what their factory workers were told. They publicly lied and tried to smear OLO in a campaign that we breached our contract and pulled funding because we merely changed our mind. We’re still dealing with it via our legal department as we speak.
Dressed in my cream wool overcoat over a dark grey pantsuit and black boots, I stand tall and make my way right for the center men who seem to be directing the crowd. I push my hand into my pocket, put my car keys back, and march outside, signaling for security to follow me with a click of the fingers. I have no patience for this shit, and it looks terrible for us to have any protest on our own doorstep. The scandals can harm our stocks even if they're unfounded.
My burly band of black-suited security flank me and quickly and quietly spread behind the line of men while I tap an exceptionally well-built, lumberjack shirt-wearing man in a black beanie on the back. Lifting my chin, tucking my handbag under my arm, and putting on my business-like persona and stern expression.
“Can I help you? You’re obstructing the main door of my company, and I can have you removed if you don’t do so immediately.” I point out. My tone is frosty, with no intimidation from dealing with these types of people. He towers over me, even facing the other way, and smells like cigarettes and damp, pretty disgusting fabric.
He spins on me, and I’m faced with a bearded, giant bear of a man who looks down at me and sneers. His whole aura suggests he’s the type to spend his private life in bars, playing pool, and shooting innocent wildlife in the name of fun. A typical low-pay grade laborer with a lack of IQ who thinks this is how to save his job.
“And who are you?” He spits, eyeing me up and down as though I’m a secretary or someone unimportant because I’m female, and I take a moment to scan my eyes over the billboard sign he’s holding against his lower body. I was right - Futuro Cosmetica went under two weeks ago due to their own internal issues. I exhale heavily and check my wristwatch to check how late I’m going to be to meet Yoonha. Sighing that this may take a while and traffic will also delay me.
“I’m the vice president of OLO, and this is my footpath. I suggest you all move along and find a nice field somewhere to whine about the unfairness of your company but be warned that anything slandering OLO and we’ll take legal action. Consider this a polite request for you to up and move, and we won’t do anything about this today.” I sound as disinterested as I feel. We don’t need to be courteous when it’s this kind of protest. They’re already breaching the law by obstructing a business.
“We ain’t moving, girly. Not until your high and mighty pretty boy President Jyeon Park shows face and tells us how he will get our jobs back.” He spits at his feet, vile thick phlegm that turns my stomach, missing my shoes by an inch, and I don’t react even though I’m disgusted and grit my teeth at his show of disrespect.
“He’ll say the exact same things I am, and he has no more ability to get your job back than I do. This is not an OLO issue; it’s an FC issue, and your fight is with them. I suggest you go stand outside their HQ and not ours.”
He starts laughing at me and waves his hand in my face as though I’m talking in another language, and he isn’t interested in anything I have to say. He lifts his arm and waves it around to get the attention of fellow protestors, and I’m aware of some turning this way and pushing in slightly to form more of an arc facing our building instead of away. Eyes are coming my way, and some quiet down to listen.
“She says it’s not their problem!” he yells out loud for them all to hear in a snarly tone and thumps his board on the ground, so I flinch. Many more of them follow suit and pound their boards, creating a buzz of bangs and murmurs as their voices blend into one. I catch more security filing outside the doors in my right line of vision and know that upstairs will have been notified of this going on by now.
“Bullshit!” he leans into my face and spits it out, so he almost grazes my nose, and I pull my face away and turn to the side to pat my mouth and nose in disgust. His breath stinks of stale booze and ash, and my stomach lurches as I fight the urge to gag.
“This is an illegal protest, and I asked nicely. Now it’s not MY problem.” I turn back to him and nod to the army of black-suited coming toward me. I smile salaciously as if to say I’m done here, and you’ll regret it, as they start shoving those on the ends and pulling them out of line—a sweeping sea of suits against lumberjack shirts. The bear-man turns to me with an angry growl and snarls into my face again.
“We came expecting a fight, Girly. Just watch us.” He laughs again, a hearty and arrogant noise like a bellowing animal, and I turn and nod to my escort that they should deal with this. Moving out of the way as my men collide with theirs, I skirt around them and head for the open end to get out of here and still meet my appointment time. There’s no way to deal with these types other than brute force, and I can guarantee the staff inside have already called the police to break this up soon enough. I don’t need to involve myself any further. There’s nothing to negotiate as OLO is not at fault. It’s not our problem.
I duck my head and dodge splaying arms of my men wresting with theirs and scoot by with a confident walk until I’m around them and on the other side of their human wall. I start looking for the car I requested to be brought to the front door. Many vehicles are abandoned on the sidewalk haphazardly, of all makes, colors, and models, and it irritates me that they have congested the road. I’m guessing most are from them, and I clench my fists in anger while looking around to try and locate mine.
“Sohla, move.” The raspy and urgent male shout comes at me from my left side, and before I can turn around and see who or where it came from, I’m yanked backward, spun into a warm body, and hugged in tight as I’m pulled sideways. A hand reaches over the top of my head, pushing me down in a crushing manner into the cocoon of his body, and covers my skull. At the same time, the black wool coat of my protector is pulled around me to conceal as much of my body as possible. Debris rains down on us from further back, and I squeal as I realize what’s happening.
Bottles, boulders, cans, and a manner of hard and heavy objects fly around, over, and at us from all angles. Coming for people and the building, I’m overwhelmed in panic mode to find we’re right in the epicenter, like a cyclone of weapons flicking around and smashing at our feet.
I cling onto my bodyguard, ducking my head, and close my eyes tight as he steers me and turns me to take the brunt of everything hitting us. Jerking with him and feeling the repercussions through him, he takes a battering and pushes me into further terror. My body shakes, and my legs turn weak as I don’t know what else to do, allowing him to move me in whatever direction he deems safest and trusting he’ll protect me.
My fingers dig into his under jacket and shirt, feeling hot body temperature and firm muscles, and I blink up, unsure who this even is. He’s tall and uses every inch of him to keep me shielded and safe while moving us around and dodging the worst of it. I can’t see anything because of my forced position, facing him, and hunched over inside his dark clothes.
He pushes my head back down and yanks his jacket back over me like a fabric roof before pulling us into a run, and I become disorientated at not being able to see where I’m going, stumbling, but he has me held fast and takes my weight. My nose ends up pressed to his chest, and it’s then as I inhale his body scent and aftershave that it hits me that I do know this body. I should have known it from a single touch, yet I was too shocked by what was going on that I didn’t even realize it. I should have recognized his voice.
Jyeon hauls me as fast as he can into the side end door of the main building as security flanks us and gets us inside the doors before locking it behind us. He stops and turns to bark orders at those standing in the hallway watching without relinquishing his vice-like grip on me.
“Get the police out here and tell them they’re throwing things. Call security from all floors and get them outside to deal with this. Keep all regular employees away from the glass in case they smash it.”
“Yes, President Park.” A male voice answers in urgency, and I lift my chin to try and take a glimpse of Jyeon, scared that he’s hurt after enduring everything I felt pounding us. My entire focus was on his body, and I start scrambling inside his clothes, my heart hitching up that he was being assaulted. It hurts my soul to think about what he just endured while protecting me.
“Jyeon? Are you okay?” I reach up for his face to turn him to me, catching his jaw in my fingers and pulling him down. My insides are aching, and genuine fear is gripping my soul as I try to inspect him for wounds. My body shakes as adrenalin kicks in, and he pulls me from the doors at speed.
“Are you hurt? Did anything hit you? Are you cut anywhere?” Jyeon slices through my question with his own. Pulling me into the elevator and letting go of me before sliding his hands over my head, brushing back my hair, searching through my scalp with his fingertips, and frantically searching over my body and face for any damage. His eyes narrow, and his breathing labors as he pulls my jacket open and skims every inch of my shoulders, neck, and face to see if I have even a tiny scratch. His warm, firm hands skim my skin, leaving a burning path wherever they touch, even through the fabric of my clothes.
“Jyeon?” I utter again, breathless and overcome with emotion, as I search out his face and body with my eyes and can’t see anything obvious. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to him.
“Are you hurt? Is there pain anywhere?” his tone is serious and urgent, his face tense, and he turns me around and does the same thing with his hands on my back. Skimming my body and pulling my clothes around to check me over. I can only stand there like a limp puppet, too shocked to react.
“What just happened?” I utter breathlessly as he turns me back, and I’m rendered mute as he yanks me into his arms and hugs me tight. Bruising me with the force of his crushing hold as he puts everything into holding me. I can feel his labored heaving of breath, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. Exhaling with relief and almost breaks my bones with the intensity of what he’s doing.
“You scared the shit out of me. What the hell were you doing going out there alone to face them? Why would you confront them? Are you stupid? Do you know how hurt you could have gotten if I hadn’t pulled up and seen what was coming? Jesus Christ, Sohla. You can’t be that careless.” He pushes me away from him, shoves my jacket fully off my shoulders, and hauls it off. Seemingly unconvinced he’s done a thorough job checking me. I place a hand on his arm to stop him. My jacket hangs by my elbows, and I pull it back on.
“Nothing hit me. Only you got hit. Jyeon, please, you have to be hurt. Let me look.” My voice wavers, and my eyes mist over as I push his jacket off, but he catches my hands and holds them tight. Pushing them together and gripping me.
“I’m fine. My clothes are thick enough that I might have a few bruises, but nothing else, and nothing hit my head. I’m fine, Sohla. Trust me. I would tell you if it was otherwise.” He lifts his palms and does a mocking turn as if to prove there isn’t a scratch or a cut on him. My hand flies to my mouth as I smother a sob that slips out involuntarily, with utter relief that he’s okay, and my eyes fill with moisture.
“We’re okay. You’re okay. We’re safe, and it’s over.” He catches me by the shoulders, pulls me back against him, hugging me close with less force, and starts rubbing my back and shoulders to calm me down, wrapping me up in his arms and nuzzling my face against his neck. The way he always used to when I was an upset kid. I’m in a state of numbness and disbelief, and I’m trembling all over, feeling like my legs might give out. The door pings and slides open to alert us that we are on our top floor again.
“Come on. You need to calm down.” He slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me with him into the foyer. Keeping me tight against him and still rubs his fingers in my hair above my right ear, so my face is pressed against his shoulder. Soothing me, calming me in ways he always did.
“Two strong coffees, make one extra sweet, and head of security to my office right now.” He’s in charge, taking control of me, and I trust that I’m safe as long as he’s got me. He barks at whatever assistant is standing there, and my vision is too blurry even to tell. I cling to him, unable to clear the chaos from my brain, and it’s like I’m transported back to the feeling of helpless dependency when I lost my parents.
“Yoonie’s waiting for me. He might come looking….. they might…….” I blabber it out, words falling from my mouth, and my voice trembling like crazy. Suddenly afraid of him getting caught down there in that too.
“I got it.” He guides me into the office door and turns his head back to whoever is there. “Call my brother and tell him I have Sohla here, not to come back until security tells him it’s safe. Let him know what’s going on.” He sounds more in control of his emotions than I do, and I sink into his hold.
“Yes, sir,” Dee replies, and her voice fades away with the office noises as his door swings shut, and we’re inside in the silence of his space. Suddenly cocooned in peace and tranquillity that’s so very rare between us.
“Take this off and sit.” He shrugs me out of my jacket and maneuvers me onto his couch, making me feel even more pathetic for flaking out like this and losing my shit over something others would deem as nothing. I don’t know why it’s hit me so bad. Maybe because I was never hit as a kid, and I’ve never come up against violence this way.
Jyeon lifts my feet one by one and slides my heels off gently, cradling my legs carefully. Making me blink up at him in confusion, he starts rubbing my ice-cold feet in his hands as he perches on the coffee table in front of me. It’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do. I can’t remember the last time he initiated any intimate touch that wasn’t for show.
“You always get cold when you’ve had a shock. Your feet are like ice.” He nods to the throw on my left, and I lean, reach for it obediently, and hand it to him. Without hesitation, he gently lays my feet on his lap, takes it, opens it up to spread across me, and then gazes at me while exhaling heavily. Under a furry blanket facing one another, this is so surreal. I feel like I’m in another time and dimension and a place where everything wrong between us temporarily doesn’t exist. This is who I miss, who I’ve longed for.
“This is going to make headlines. Protest turns violent, and our security is out there fighting with ex-employees. We have a lot of bullshit fallout to come from this, so we better be prepared.” Jyeon doesn’t seem phased by what’s just happened, and I stare at him in silent disbelief, wondering if he’s even human. We were just attacked in front of our building, and his brain immediately went to damage control of the company’s reputation. That’s usually my line, my next move.
All I can think about is what he did, how he protected me, and how he’s sat here comforting, holding my legs, and taking care of me. It’s like going back four years to when he tried to love me as a husband, and it breaks my heart to experience it again like a bittersweet poison rising inside my soul. I know I should say something, anything. Even a thank you, but the words die in my throat, and all I can force out are the ungrateful and stupid empty phrases I know he’s expecting from the cold me.
“Let’s start writing a press release and get on top of this before it escalates.”