(BL) A Regretful Revenge

It had been a full week since Micheal and Ken last saw each other.

Seven days wasn't long, not really, but for Ken, it felt unusually quiet. Micheal hadn't come by his office, hadn't joined any of the leadership meetings, and aside from a few formal work-related emails, there had been nothing.

Ken knew he was busy.

Micheal had just moved into the new company apartment, and there were departmental projects underway that demanded his attention. Still, Ken couldn't help the slight irritation that built in his chest every time he passed the supervisor floor and didn't catch even a glimpse of that familiar face.

He didn't like being ignored, especially not by Micheal.

So, he did what he knew best.

He created a reason.

An internal report needed clarification. Numbers were misaligned. The kind of thing that any assistant manager could easily handle. But Ken sent a direct message through the internal system:

- Mr. Aouken, please report to my office after 5 p.m. today. Urgent matter regarding the Q3 performance draft.- K. Himura

Micheal read the message as he finished sorting files at his desk. His first instinct was suspicion. Ken never deals with drafts personally. But part of him had been expecting this. He knew Ken wouldn't stay quiet forever.

At 5:10 p.m., he arrived at the executive floor.

Ken was standing by the tall windows of his office, city lights beginning to flicker alive behind him. The man turned as Micheal entered, his gaze landing on him with that familiar intensity, one that always felt like it peeled back layers.

"You've been… busy," Ken said, voice smooth and low.

Micheal offered a small smile. "I've had my hands full. Apartment, deadlines, the usual."

Ken walked over, slowly. "No time to even say hello?"

Micheal shrugged. "Didn't think I was missed."

Ken chuckled, closing the door behind him. "You'd be surprised."

There was a charged silence between them. Micheal felt it immediately, the atmosphere was thick with something unspoken. Ken didn't walk back to his desk. Instead, he stepped closer, hands in his pockets, watching him with quiet intent.

"I don't like this distance," Ken said softly.

"It's just a few days," Micheal replied, keeping his tone neutral.

"To you, maybe." Ken tilted his head slightly. "To me, it felt longer."

Micheal stayed still, careful with his expression.

Ken reached out, brushing Micheal's tie down with two fingers, smoothing the fabric slowly. "You look too good to be hiding downstairs all day."

"Didn't know I was hiding."

Ken smirked. "Then let me rephrase… I miss seeing you where I want you."

There it was, the flirtation.

It wasn't new. Ken had always played this game. Touches that lingered. Words that walked the line. But tonight, it felt more… possessive.

And Micheal noticed.

He didn't move when Ken's hand drifted up his chest.

But for some reason, his skin didn't warm like it used to. His mood was off, distracted, perhaps from exhaustion, or from seeing Amanda a few days ago. Whatever it was, his usual control felt slightly thinner.

Ken stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching now.

"You could've texted," Ken murmured. "Called. Said something."

"I didn't think it mattered," Micheal said quietly, eyes flicking away.

Ken frowned.. just a little. "It matters."

There was a pause. Then Ken leaned in, his lips ghosting over Micheal's jaw, breath warm, voice even warmer.

"You keep doing this thing where you pretend none of this affects you," he whispered. "But I know you feel it."

Micheal closed his eyes for a second. Stay in control.

He felt Ken's hand sliding to his waist. Soft. Possessive.

"I brought you here for more than numbers," Ken admitted. "I needed to see you. Touch you. Remind you."

"Remind me of what?"

"That you belong here. With me."

Micheal's breath hitched slightly. That line, it almost sounded real. Almost emotional. And that bothered him more than the touch.

But right now, if he pushed away, if he denied Ken… he risked undoing months of carefully earned trust.

So he didn't move.

He let Ken kiss him.

It wasn't rough. It was needy.

Ken's arms pulled him close, lips pressing more desperately, hands gripping Micheal like he'd been starving. And though Micheal's mind screamed caution, his body obeyed. Responded. Gave just enough without surrendering too much.

When their lips finally parted, Ken leaned his forehead against Micheal's.

"I've missed this," he said, voice low.

Micheal forced a smile, fingers resting on Ken's collar. "I'm here now."

And that was all Ken needed.

The rest of the night blurred into dim lights, low murmurs, and heated moments pressed against the windows. But as Micheal left the office hours later, alone, adjusting his jacket, one thought looped endlessly in his mind:

He's starting to fall.

Good.

Because when Ken finally breaks, it'll be on Micheal's terms.