Chapter Text
When you were younger, you never really envisioned yourself working in an office. Like all the other kids, you wanted to be an astronaut, or a doctor, or an actor. You suppose, no one ever really dreamt of working in an office, but there you were. A twenty-something in a corporate building, working a solid nine-to-five.
As far as office work goes, you actually had it really, really good. You had applied to SM right out of highschool with very minimal background experience. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected anything from putting in your resume, but by the grace of god, you landed the summer secretary position. The job was easy enough to do and complex enough to keep you focused for an eight hour work day. When August rolled around and you were called back to your manager's office, you were sure that it was the end of the line for you; end of summer, end of job. But to your surprise, you were offered a job outside of the lobby and into the office blocks.
Which is how you ended up here: the marketing department. The sudden shift away from greeting guests at the front desk and setting up appointments for people on the way out was jarring. Work suddenly had weight to it. If it hadn’t been for the considerable upgrade in your check every month, you probably would have lost your mind. Marketing wasn’t necessarily hard . It was just a lot more than what you were used to. Micro to macro, so to speak. The job outline wasn’t single people anymore. You were connecting with hundreds of thousands of people behind the guise of company-community involvement, media planning, and advertisement. Luckily, you didn’t have to do it alone.
Your immediate team consisted of three charismatic young men that fit the forward thinking, strikingly attractive, deceptively smart and strategic outline your department demanded. It was hard to picture yourself fitting in with them most of the time, but from your first day forward they all welcomed you in like you had been there since the dawn of time. It seemed the thoughts of not quite being up to par during brainstorming sessions, and feeling slightly out of place when someone walked in to your department passed with time.
The eldest in your team was named Chittaphon, but the other boys called him Ten because of [insert inside office joke that you weren’t there to learn here]. He was eccentric and stellar at his job. Since he worked there the longest, he helped you through your marketing training and made you nifty little cheat sheets with frequent call numbers and contact names. You got close with Ten first because of how closely you worked in your training period, and he was a gateway to the other two boys in your department. He was always either complimenting your work attire or praising your work ethic.
After finally being released from training, you got your own desk right next to the second oldest member of your department. Jaehyun was a great desk neighbor, all things considered. Sure, he had a stressfully cluttered desk and never put his phone on silent, but somehow he still got all of his work done and even managed to help you with yours. Jae was so handsome that it was hard not to fall head over heels for him. And maybe, you would have if it wasn’t for the fact that you had seen how he danced while he was heavily intoxicated at a department night out… It was an ugly sight. So instead, you settled for going to company dinners together and ultimately you became Jaehyun’s wingwoman.
The last member of your team was Mark, who seemed to be perpetually waiting for everyone else to catch up. He was a touch younger than you, but the two of you got along pretty well. That is, after the two of you started speaking. For how quirky and talkative he was with the other two boys, he seemed to keep his guard up around you for the first few months. Jae teased that it was because Mark had never had to talk to girls before and he didn’t know how, to which Ten scoffed and Mark slumped further down in to his chair. You and Mark finally hit it off when Jaehyun had called out sick. Without your trusty companion to ask for help, you decided to take the leap and roll your chair over to Mark’s desk. At first, he was surprised that you would even consider coming to him for help, considering Ten was in the same room as the two of you.
To say that Mark was nervous, was an astounding understatement. His hands were shaky and cautious as he reached for the stapler on the other side of the desk. However, after a few cheesy jokes on your behalf Mark was absolutely smitten with you in the most platonic sense of the word. Soon he was showing up to work with two coffees instead of one, and the middle drawer of his desk was filled with snacks just for you.
The days of learning simmered out into days of keeping your eyes open, and the longer you were there, the more second nature your position became. Nothing ever became particularly mundane, but with four of you in the office there was a lot of time to just… talk. About stupid things. Or funny things. Or kind of secret things-- like the fact that Ten was dating your department manager, and no one knew somehow. Or how Mark almost strangled the new secretary last week, because, who the fuck would hire Donghyuck oh my god . Or how Jaehyun needed you to be his fake girlfriend at the next wedding in his family. Again.
You had to pay your downtime to those in logistics. Realistically, if the logistics department didn’t exist, you probably would have quit a long time ago. Connecting with so many people called for a lot of… calls. That you didn’t necessarily want to, or know how to, make. If someone asked you who you respected, hands down you would have said your agent from logistics, Yuta.
Yuta was a great partner to work with. Typically he opened the phone calls with a warm greeting before filling you in on the latest plots of this new anime he had recently started. He then transitioned into how cute Manager Sicheng had been looking lately, and more often than not you had to remind him that the purpose of the call was to relay information. He was the person who had gotten you into watching cheesy anime and he was your go to gossip partner whenever Ten was busy with “lunch dates.”
He was the one who always had jokes to tell or advice to give, and although your departments were on opposite sides of the same floor, his friendship felt real and close. These were likely the reasons it absolutely broke your heart when Yuta informed you that a transfer hire would be taking over his spot as your go to logistics man.
“Yuta, you’ve told me a lot of stupid shit these past few months but thinking I’m going to just let a transfer hire take your place is by far the stupidest.”
“Calm down, sunshine, I won’t forget about you. I’ve just been having to juggle yours and Jaehyun’s sorry asses for the past few months. Trust me-- if I got to pick, I would take you over him in a heartbeat,” Yuta replied, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.
You huffed halfheartedly and slumped in your chair, “This sucks.”
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cry about losing Yuta as your logistics man in the break room later on that afternoon. Mark eventually finds you with your legs huddled close to your chest as you let out quiet, pathetic sniffles. He handed you a box of tissues that had been placed on the counter, almost as if it had been left there for this exact purpose.
“I heard about the whole Yuta thing, and I kinda figured you’d be in here crying.” His voice is soft and comforting, but you’re also partially offended he assumed you would be crying in this situation.
“And how did you know that?” You quip back bitterly, and Mark chuckles at your childish antics.
“You cried for two hours when Yuta told you how Monsters Inc. ended.” Although it was meant as a lighthearted joke, a fresh wave of tears hits you and you’re crying even more now. Because god dammit now you had to think about how Boo lost Sulley on top of you losing Yuta.
Mark’s eyes are wide, like a deer in headlights. “Jaehyun! Call Yuta’s dumb ass, like, right now!”
After teasing Mark for freaking out, Jaehyun obediently dialed Yuta’s number and called him to the break room. Admittedly, crying about losing Yuta was a tad bit melodramatic. However, you felt a wave of dread wash over you at the mere thought of your friendship slowly dying off because you wouldn’t be talking half as much as you used to.
Nonetheless, your band of misfits had decided that the best way to deal with the situation at hand was to get shitfaced. After all, friends that make regrettable decisions while intoxicated together stay together, right?
For the duration of your appetizers, Yuta had been trying to get you to fess up about why you were crying about the situation. In his defense, Yuta couldn’t really understand why you had been so upset. The way he saw it, your friendship didn’t need office calls to last.
“I guess I’m just afraid that with the new transfer hire, we won’t talk anymore.” You finally confess, teary eyed. Yuta swears he tried to hold in his fit of giggles, but it was just too hard.
Laughing, he pulls you into a tight side hug and ruffles your hair with his hands. “You dumbass! You think I won’t be texting you every five minutes about what happened in my show? Working a nine to five job really has rotted your brain.”
His eyes are bright and cheery as he continues to comfort you, promising every so often that he’ll visit your apartment and watch anime with you to compensate for the lack of business calls.
Now that the mood had brightened considerably, you were able to pay attention to Mark, who was trying to prove his manliness by downing shot after shot while Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him for freaking out over tears. As you shifted your eyes over to them, your heart swelled with warmth. Your office friends had become like a second family to you. And you wouldn’t dare change it for the world. Resentment sank slowly into the pit of your stomach, however; not towards any of this newfound love for this gang of corporate slaves, but rather for the transfer that was seemingly trying to ruin all of it. The realization of this sudden blind hatred made you feel well and truly immature, more so than crying in the break room at work (which is a hard thing to top). You shrugged it off and ordered another round of drinks.
The next day came quickly and angrily. You blinked your eyes against the offending light that had woken you and groaned. This was a feeling you had grown to know well. A hangover.
You yanked your blanket back over your head. After blindly fumbling around for your phone on your bedside table, you managed to type in the number to your department managers office. You inhaled deeply and pressed the overly bright green button. The ringback was deafening, until finally--
“Advertising and Marketing, this is Johnny Seo,” his voice cut through the receiver like a knife. It was hard not to wince.
“Johnny,” you said, voice untested and rough, “It’s me. I can't come in today.”
You swore you heard him chuckle on the other end, knowingly. You couldn’t find the humor in this situation.
“Sure thing, want to use PTO? Or accept the consequences of a bad hangover?” he asked.
You rubbed the palm of your hand over your face, “Y’know, I’m gonna leave that up to your discretion.”
“Understood, I’ll see you nice and sober tomorrow morning.”
Begrudgingly, you slid out of bed and pressed your feet against the floor. The cool tile was grounding. You decided today was the day you would catch up on the anime Yuta had sent you, get your laundry done, and catch up on your sleep. With a newfound purpose, you trudged into the kitchen of your apartment and started a pot of coffee, before deciding, yeah, you did need to wash your hair.
Before you knew it, your impromptu day off was coming to a close. You were clean, caught up on laundry and anime, and more broke than that morning. Online shopping really was a trap. With a full wasted day under your belt, you fell back into bed and turned the lights off.
As you laid there, waiting to fall asleep, your mind wandered idly to what happened at work while you were away. You were almost positive Mark called out too. If anyone was more of a certified lightweight than you, it was him. Jaehyun probably had a wonderful day, you thought, with Yuta all to himself. You found yourself then wondering about this nameless company transfer. Would he be nice? Would he get your jokes? Would he have an annoying voice? Would he know how to do his job? Stress prickled in your chest and you took a deep breath to choke it down. You could deal with that tomorrow.
Feeling as refreshed as you possibly could after dealing with such a horrendous hangover, you pushed yourself to get ready for the day. Your heart was pounding at an alarming rate when you realized it was time for you to leave for work. You had even considered calling in again and telling Johnny that maybe you weren’t hungover, maybe it was alcohol poisoning or maybe you were on the brink of death.
But you knew Johnny would tear you to pieces if you called in with such a lame and poorly thought out excuse. So instead, you begrudgingly grabbed your work bag and headed out the front door.
On your way in to the office, you caught Mark at the front door. He was, unsurprisingly, harassing the secretary. Donghyuck looked positively pleased with himself as he swiveled on his rolly chair, an angry Mark saying something about eating the rest of the leftovers.
“Oh, Mark,” you said, throwing an arm around the boys shoulders. His tray of coffee for your department teetered dangerously in his hands. “Leave the poor boy alone, I wouldn’t want to have to call HR on you.”
Mark shot you a look as he steadied the coffee in his hand, opening his mouth to say something. He was cut off by Donghyuck.
“Thank you! I’m just here, trying to do my humble job, and I’m being brutalised by this man! ” Hyuck clasped a hand over his heart and puffed out his lower lip.
“By god Mark, stop making a scene, let’s go,” you faked chastised as you pulled him down the hall towards your offices.
“Har har,” Mark made a poor attempt at fake laughing and shoved a coffee in your direction, “Very funny. G’morning to you too.”
You bumped your head against his shoulder in apology as you walked side by side, “Sorry, Marky-baby,” you saw him flush at the name, “You know I’m just teasing.”
Mark visibly relaxed and his stern look softened, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“So how was yesterday?” You poked your straw into the top of your iced coffee.
“I was about to ask you the same, but I take it you called out, too.” You smiled up at him sheepishly. He knocked shoulders with you and you both giggled at your notably low alcohol tolerance.
“I was hoping to get some intel on my new guy,” you paused for a second and sighed, “I would like to reiterate the fact that this… sucks.”
“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”
You tried not to bristle at the dismissal, “That’s awfully easy for you to say, not having to get used to someone other than Taeyong, and all.”
“That’s-- That’s not what I meant. Just give him a chance, I guess.” You rolled your eyes at his comment before shooting him a devious smirk.
“Maybe you should give Hyuck a chance.” You were answered with an elbow in the ribs.
You pushed the door to your department open and held it for Mark before you walked your opposite directions to your desks. As you sat down next to Jaehyun, you rolled your chair suspiciously closer to the side of your desk furthest away from him. Jae immediately noticed and shot you a look somewhere between confused and wounded.
Ten piped up from behind you both, “Uh oh. Mommy and daddy are fighting again.”
“Who’s who?” Mark asked with a snicker.
“Are you actually upset with me over this?” Jae asked quietly, disregarding the other two.
You glanced over to him and immediately felt bad. “No,” you said apologetically, “I’m not mad. Really, Jae. This is just weird, and I don’t want to talk to the new guy.”
Jaehyun’s brow squished together in the middle, clearly confused. “But he’s so nice?”
“Oh yeah,” Ten swiveled around in his chair, “He came in and introduced himself yesterday, wanted to get to meet who he was gonna be running logistics for before he got locked upstairs.” Ten paused and smirked wickedly, “Probably not the best first impression.”
You groaned helplessly and melted into the leather of your chair. A wave of humility washed over you in thinking that, shit, he was probably nervous too. You had all of your friends around to support you and only one part of your daily routine was changing, but this guy was coming from out of the city and didn’t know anyone . Jae looked at you pitifully, which arguably made the whole situation worse.
“Don’t worry about it. He seemed genuinely nice, if not just a little quiet. I’m sure he understood.”
“Jae, stop,” you whined, “That definitely makes this worse!”
You looked around to see three sets of eyes on you with varying expressions. Ten looked unimpressed, Mark looked confused, and Jae maintained an unwavering look of pity.
“Alright, sweetheart,” Ten said slowly, “I’m going to need you to get this--” he gestured vaguely at your current state, “--figured out. It is far too early in the morning for a mental collapse. And while I would love to watch this unfold, we unfortunately do not get paid for that.”
Ten turned his chair back to his desk with an air of finality.
With a huff, you heaved yourself back up into a proper sitting position. You organized your papers that you had left on your desk from the prior work day and tapped them into line with each other. You smoothed them against the faux wood of your desk with a hand and took a breath to calm yourself. Jae’s hand found itself over top of yours. He caught your eye before he smiled reassuringly, and squeezed your hand before letting go.
You stalled for as long as you could with paperwork from the day you missed, but damn it, you were a touch too good at your job and finished everything you could do by yourself within the morning. You took lunch with Mark and watched vine compilations together in the break room. As your half hour of freedom drew to a close, you came to terms with the fact that you had to swallow your pride and call down to logistics.
You cozied back into your office chair and tucked your feet underneath you. There was no more procrastinating to be done. You fiddled with a ring on one of your fingers before finally biting the bullet and dialing in the extension to logistics.
The line rang three times, and with every buzz of the callback, you felt your stomach do a flip. Equal parts of you wanted the ringing to end and go on forever all at the same time.
“Logistics, this is Doyoung,” a clear voice broke through the line.
“I--,” you started before your brain could keep up, “Sorry, what was it again?” You smushed your palm against your forehead, because you idiot , you heard exactly what he said! “Can you spell that for me, I mean?”
“Uh-- Ah, yeah, it’s D-O-Y-O-U-N-G. From, uh. From logistics.”
“Right, Doyoung” you repeated, scribbling down his name on a sticky note before peeling it off the pad and pressing it onto the receiver of your phone. “I’m Y/N. From marketing. But I’m sure you already knew that.”
Doyoung mumbled a non committal noise on the other end of the line, “What can I do for you?”
You closed your eyes and breathed in through your nose, “I was wondering if I could get some documents faxed over from accounting, actually. Uh, stocks, to be specific. For our upcoming ad campaign, I need to see affiliate ownership growth between January of this year and now. Yuta has been keeping a file for the dates that we’ve been doing growth research on and--”
“Yeah, I’ve got the folder. I’ll send the forms down. Anything else?”
“Um,” you said, taken slightly aback by Doyoung cutting into you speaking, “No, that’s it I think. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The line went dead.
Slowly you put the phone back on the receiver. A series of emotions flashed through your head. You took a moment to try and process exactly what went down but also if you didn’t swallow the lump that was beginning to form in your throat you were afraid you’d start crying again. You were a grown woman and knew how to keep your emotions under control, but the amount of frustration that washed over you was infuriating. You mentally kicked yourself for even trying to be nice to this guy when he was going to treat you like an inconvenience. This was his job! He was, quite literally, paid to help you!
As you were finally getting your breathing back under control, a knock came from the glass door. You glanced over your shoulder to see one of the interns smiling at you. You pulled a smile on and waved at him. His smile only widened and he waved frantically, calling you out into the hall. You suppress the urge to complain solely because this was your favorite intern.
“Na Jaemin,” you smiled, closing the glass door to your department behind you.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite marketing expert,” the younger boy winked at you.
“Flattery,” you said as you pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose to clean them. He had a bad habit of staring through smudge marks that didn’t seem to bother him, but drove you insane.
“Maybe,” he smiled, rubbing over where the feet of his glasses were previously sat on his nose, “But only because you deserve it.”
You smiled at that, and it wasn’t forced. You remembered why he was your favorite.
“What can I do for you, kid?” you slid his glasses back onto his face.
“More of what I--” he waved a manilla folder in front of you, “--can do for you.”
You laughed at that, because, “Please don’t ever do that again.”
He laughed with you before finally handing you the file. You both stood there for a moment before he asked, “So do you like the new guy you’re working with? I just picked these up from him and he seemed pretty nice, I think.”
Right. The new guy. Doyoung.
“Jesus, the other Jae told me he’s great too, but the only conversation I’ve had with him was short and decidedly unpleasant.”
Jaemin exhaled pointedly and looked at you with sympathy. “That sucks. I won’t bring him up then.”
“No, it’s okay. I just have to get over it.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Jaemin leaned forward like he was letting you in on a secret, “I have to deal with the rest of the interns.”
You found yourself smiling again, despite yourself. Somehow, this high school intern had a way of leaving you in a better mood than he found you. “God help you,” you chuckled.
You and Jaemin parted ways shortly thereafter. You slipped back into marketing and to your desk. You took a moment to get situated and take a sip of your then watery coffee. Eventually, you convinced yourself to open your files back up on your computer and get the numbers put together. You flipped the front of the manila folder over and were met first with a jumble of numbers on the right side of the folder. On the left side was something you weren’t expecting. A small note on nice paper, taped parallel with the top of the folder. The handwriting was reminiscent of a font, in neat, narrow letters.
Y/N,
Sorry for rushing off of the phone earlier.
Management called on the other line. I hope
you understand. If you need anything, feel more
than welcome to call me. You have my number
and I work the same hours that you do.
-DY
You read over the note a few times before it finally sank in what it was saying. A pang of guilt thumped you in the chest as you traced your fingertip over the note again. Maybe you were too quick to judge on him, you thought to yourself. You tried not to slump in your chair.
You tore your brain away from being an overly-sensitive, hyper-judgemental individual long enough to put a decent dent on your ownership trend report. The numbers were cleaner than you remember them being organized before, and the spreadsheets had rows in alternating colors that made it easier on the eyes. You noticed somewhere along your productivity streak that there were now tabs separating affiliate from corporate ownership, and there were certain forms that you hadn’t requested but had helped your report.
By the time five rolled around, you felt like you had gotten an unusually large amount of work done despite bitching and moaning the entire morning. Only as Mark tapped on your shoulder with his backpack slung over his back did you realise it was already time to go home. Your face flushed at the uncharacteristic loss of time; you were typically the one counting down the minutes until the day was over.
As you walked out of the office with Mark, you came to two conclusions: the first was that this was one of the most emotionally confusing days of your life, and the second was that Doyoung must have been a robot. Everything he did seemed so critically calculated and practiced. You didn’t want to say that he was better than Yuta, but after going through the revised file he sent you… he was definitely more efficient. Even as you waved goodbye to Mark in the parking garage, you were stuck on your new partner.
By the time you got home and collapsed onto the couch with a box of takeout, you were finally not thinking exclusively of Doyoung. You managed to watch a few episodes of yours and Yuta’s anime, take a shower, and fold an entire load of laundry before crawling up into bed. You pulled the duvet up to your chin. You clicked open your phone to find a clean screen and let out a breath of relief. Sometimes, silence after a long day like the one you had was welcome. You watched the drizzle of rain start to come down outside your window and pulled your blankets up tighter. As the chill of early winter crept into the glass of your window, your mind crept into sleep.
Over the next few weeks, you found that Doyoung was not, in fact, a robot. Shockingly, he was just really good at his job.
Calls with Doyoung became significantly less stressful as time went on, but it was nothing like what you and Yuta had before. Despite being considerably more productive and organized, the phone calls weren’t as memorable. Doyoung seemed to have a strictly business sort of take on things, but he was human.
His humanity came through subtly. It started with you sending Jaemin up to logistics with the completed ownership trend report in a new manilla folder. You decided, after a bit too much thought, that you would attach a note of your own for Doyoung. Peacemaking, your brain supplied.
doyoung,
thanks for the files! no hard feelings.
if you could organize everything like
you did with those documents, my life
would be considerably easier. thanks
a million!
-Y/N
You looked down at your note, on your cheap sticky note with your far from perfect handwriting and wondered if you should just send the file by itself. You shook your head and pressed the piece of paper on the folder before closing it with a decisive snap.
Later that day, you called up to logistics to check on the file you sent.
“Logistics, this is Doyoung,” you swore his voice could be on a recorded line from how similar to the previous day that sounded.
“Hey Doyoung, I just wanted to make sure you got the report I sent up earlier.”
“Oh--,” There was a muffled rustling sound, like he was sorting through papers, “Yeah. Yeah I did.”
“Okay! Just let me know if my numbers don’t check out or something, yeah?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line followed by a slight huff that loosely resembled a laugh, “Yeah, of course.”
After you thanked him and hung up the phone, you wondered if he thought your note was amusing or if the two events were completely isolated. The socialite portion of your personality hoped it was because of you, but the realistic portion of you recognized it could have been because of anything. Hell, it could have not been a laugh at all.
About five minutes later, your email pinged with a new message in the inbox. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion; most people didn’t email you directly unless you messaged them first. You pulled up the portal and saw one (1) new email from a Kim Doyoung. A tiny paperclip icon next to the email envelope told you that there was something attached to the message. You opened the attachment to find a spreadsheet with clean lines and alternating color blocks. The font was simplistic and streamline, and despite it just being a spreadsheet, it brought a smile to your face. This felt like the first step towards something manageable.
In the following days and documents, the two of you kept phone calls short, but often left notes in files that were dropped off to each other. Doyoungs’ were always short and concise, written with a painfully steady hand on paper that was too nice to justify writing a note on. Yours, on the other hand, were on various pieces of parchment you found in your department, handwriting fluctuating with how busy the office was. There was a consistency in the pattern the two of you had that you could almost appreciate; the two of you were hardly acquaintances, even farther from friends, but the routine gave you a new normal.