The men's voices inside started echoing again, now more hurried. One of them said something about "hearing a noise."
At the exact moment Jaemin glanced toward the door, a large hand grabbed his hips and yanked him forward. The sudden pull threw him off balance for a second, his body crashing against the silver-haired man's in a way that knocked the air from his lungs.
"W-what…?!" he hissed through clenched teeth.
The stranger was way too close. Close enough that Jaemin could smell him, a clean mix of soap and something faintly woody, with an undercurrent of mana's metallic tang that didn't match any cologne he'd ever come across. His heart kicked hard in his chest, painfully fast.
"Shh…" the man murmured, his deep voice rumbling far too close to Jaemin's ear, making him flush before he could stop it.
Before he could even ask what exactly that "shh" was supposed to mean, the silver-haired man erased whatever space was left between them.
His lips pressed against Jaemin's in a firm, deliberate kiss, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
For a second, Jaemin's brain simply stalled.
'He… is kissing me?'
His first instinct was to push him away. The hunter's hands landed on the man's chest, searching for some leverage to shove him back, but his fingers only found the warm fabric of a dress shirt and the steady rhythm of a breath that remained absurdly calm.
The contrast only made him more disoriented.
"S-st… stop!" he managed to mumble against the other's mouth, but the words died there, swallowed between one kiss and the next.
The silver-haired man didn't pull back. Instead, he drew Jaemin even closer, the hand on his hips tightening in a firm grip, keeping him in place. His arm, still braced against the wall, formed a kind of cage, and Jaemin found himself completely surrounded, by his body, his scent, the heat radiating from his skin.
A warm tongue traced along the line of Jaemin's lips, insistently, and before he could decide whether to bite, retreat, or curse him out, his own body betrayed him with a stupid reflex, the barrier parting. The kiss deepened all at once, stealing what little air he had left.
The outside world seemed to drift even further away. The distant music, footsteps in the corridor, even the low murmur from inside the office… all of it faded for a few moments, swallowed by the avalanche of sensations running through his body like tiny electric shocks.
'What am I doing…? What is he doing…?'
Jaemin felt his chest tighten, a mess of irritation, embarrassment, and a spark of something warm he refused, with every fiber of his being, to acknowledge.
He was just about ready to drive his knee into the silver-haired bastard's stomach when the office door flew open with a bang.
"Who's out there!?"
The two men who'd been rummaging through the office rushed out, ready to catch some inconvenient intruder in the act.
What they found, however, was something else entirely.
From their point of view, all they saw was a couple pressed against the hallway wall: the silver-haired man practically pinning Jaemin there, hands clamped firmly on his hips, their bodies flush together, the kiss far too deep to be anything but desperate, messy making out.
One of the intruders froze mid-step, eyes widening.
"W-what the hell is this!?" he blurted, face twisting as he recoiled, half horrified, half embarrassed.
Jaemin's knees buckled for a moment and he nearly lost his footing, but the silver-haired man caught him easily, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. He pinned him back against the wall again, holding him up with one hand while continuing to kiss him, the movement intensifying just enough to make the scene even more convincing.
Then, without letting Jaemin go, he turned his head slightly, not enough to reveal his face completely, but just enough for the two intruders to see his eyes. The look he shot their way screamed, without a single word: get lost.
The other man, who had come out right behind, made an even worse face, snapping his head to the side like watching that was physically painful.
"For fuck's sake, get a room, you little faggots!" he growled, spitting on the floor near them and yanking his partner by the arm. "Come on, before I lose the rest of my appetite."
The two of them disappeared down the opposite corridor in a matter of seconds, still grumbling.
Only then did the silver-haired man finally start to pull away.
The kiss that had begun as a shock ended in a slow, almost careful drag, until their lips parted at last. He lowered Jaemin gently until his feet found the floor again, then straightened up, throwing a quick glance toward the direction the men had gone.
Jaemin drew in a deep breath, finally feeling air reach his lungs again. His face burned a vivid red, his clothes were wrinkled and slightly out of place, and his legs felt like they were made of something far less reliable than muscle and bone.
"Wasn't that bad, actually," the silver-haired man commented, licking his lips lightly and adjusting his shirt as if nothing particularly noteworthy had happened.
Jaemin didn't say anything. He just stood there, breathing in short, measured bursts, trying to get himself under control. His eyes stayed fixed on his own feet, strands of hair falling over his face and helping hide his expression.
"Now then… where were we?" the other asked, turning his attention back to him. "Hm? Are you okay?"
When he took a step forward to get closer, a sharp gust of air cut through the corridor.
Pow!
Jaemin's right hook came in so fast and with such force against the mysterious man's cheek that the impact drove him back a few steps.
The silver-haired man's head snapped to the side with the punch; his body stumbled a few steps until he lost his balance and landed on his ass. One hand flew straight to the cheek that had been hit; the other pressed against the cold floor, holding up his weight.
Jaemin stayed where he was, his chest rising and falling fast, his knuckles white from how tightly he was clenching his fist.
His lips still burned, throbbing and red, like the man had tried to devour him alive.
'Should I kill him…?'
For a brief moment, Jaemin seriously considered taking that man out right there and ending the whole thing for good. Or, at the very least, pretending later that it had all been nothing more than some badly digested nightmare.
The man, however, didn't hit back. He didn't move toward him, didn't curse, didn't raise a hand. He just let out a slow breath, like the punch had knocked his thoughts into place.
"…Okay." He ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth, testing the cut, and let out a low laugh, incredibly calm for someone who had just taken a hook to the face. "I'll admit it. Terrible choice of approach."
Slowly, he got to his feet.
There was a thin line of blood running from the corner of his lips down to his chin, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. His skin was flushed red where Jaemin's fist had landed which, honestly, was already surprising. Even with his strength reduced to less than half, one punch from Jaemin was still enough to knock a grown man out for a few hours.
"If it's any consolation…" he went on, rolling his jaw a little until a faint crack sounded. "I only did it because I figured you'd rather be seen making out with someone than as a supposed accomplice to a crime… I misjudged that."
Jaemin frowned, still breathless.
"You think?"
One corner of the other man's mouth twitched, almost forming a smile.
"Yes. You hit much better than you kiss when you're panicking."
The hunter felt his face heat up again, now from anger and embarrassment in equal measure.
"Go fuck yourself."
The silver-haired man drew in a slow breath through his nose, or at least tried to; blood was starting to drip from there too.
"If you want to hit me again, go ahead," he said, leaning forward and offering his face. "Just… try not to break my nose. I still use this face for work."
Jaemin stared at him, incredulous.
'This psycho is actually serious…?'
And for a moment, the idea of landing another punch was tempting. Very tempting.
But as the silence stretched on, the adrenaline slowly began to ebb. Air started to enter his lungs a little easier. His heart slowed just enough for him to think with something other than pure rage.
"Fuck off," he repeated at last.
He stepped forward and shoved the silver-haired man's chest with his free hand, not with full strength, just enough to move him out of the way, then turned his back and started walking toward the end of the hallway.
He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for two days straight. Forget that shitty night, which felt like it had been ripped out of some low-budget horror movie from the eighties.
"…Seo Minjae."
Jaemin stopped mid-step, without turning around.
"Huh?"
"My name… is Seo Minjae." There was a brief pause. "In case you need to curse 'ah, that bastard!' later and want to know what to write on the complaint form."
Jaemin turned his head just slightly over his shoulder, his eye twitching from stress, but only enough to catch a glimpse of him.
The silver hair that had been neatly in place before was now a bit messy, falling in uneven waves over his forehead. A red streak of blood ran from his nose, staining and trailing down toward his lips. The sleeve of his dress shirt was smeared with blood where he'd already tried to wipe it away.
It was an almost ridiculous sight, if you stopped to think about it. A man who radiated danger from every pore, with the face of a magazine model… bleeding like some teenager who'd taken his first punch during recess.
Tch.
A sharp click of Jaemin's tongue slipped out before he could stop it.
He slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out a folded tissue, one of those common, thicker paper ones he carried out of habit, and tossed it in his direction without any ceremony.
"Here. Before you get blood all over the floor."
The tissue hit Minjae's chest and slid down until it landed in the hand he lifted on instinct. He just stared at the tissue between his fingers, as if it were just as unexpected as the punch.
Then his eyes went back to Jaemin.
"…Thank you." He folded the tissue and finally brought it up to his nose. "I promise I'll warn you next time."
Jaemin had already turned his back again.
"There won't be a next time," he shot back as he walked. "And the tissue isn't for you. It's for the cleaning lady."