Work Text:
Yoon Jeonghan meets him on a normal Monday work day, without much extra embellishments on the introductions.
He’s Hong Jisoo, a college graduate who came from working in a different industry and is now transitioning to a corporate work setup. He’s quiet, face fresh from the stress of working long hours in the office and eyes curious like that of a deer’s. He’s supposed to be the same age as him, but somehow Jeonghan feels like he has deteriorated into a piece of dried raisin as compared to the latter.
Myungho (their HR representative) tells Jeonghan that both of them will be in the same department and will be sitting beside each other's dusty green cubicle (how the color was chosen, Jeonghan could never figure out–it was just so dull). He nods at it and Myungho shoots him a knowing look that basically translates to play nice and Jeonghan knows and gives a reaffirming nod as a confirmation.
Jisoo shakes his hand, a bit clammy probably from the walking around in the office and first day nervousness but Jeonghan understands–he’s been like that before too and probably even worse. The grip is a bit firm, and Jeonghan subconsciously yelps in his head. New boy doesn’t seem to be strong, but the handshake says otherwise.
They don’t exchange much after that, because Jeonghan has to actually go back and continue what he was doing (calling candidates for initial interviews) and Jisoo has to orient himself with their system and the things to do and all that.
The last thing he hears before Jisoo leaves for the day (and on time, which will probably be the only time now for the moving forward since he entered this corporate hellscape) is a prompt shy goodbye and good job today from him.
Jeonghan nods and waves him off with a small smile before going back to his work.
Jeonghan isn’t the friendliest person in the office–he actually likes to keep things mostly to himself and it doesn’t add the fact that there are always rumors about him floating around ( “I heard he’s the son of the CEO who is doing undercover work” “What makes you say that?” “He looks rich?”). He doesn’t mind it, and doesn't bother correcting it. He lives by the principle of work what you are getting paid for, nothing more and nothing less. The closest thing to what he can call an office friend is probably Choi Seungcheol who works as an Account Manager in a different department, whom he shares a cigarette or two with during afternoon breaks–and that’s only because they’ve decided to just pair with each other when smoking in the rooftop to avoid pity looks from those who go in groups who gossip with each other. They always make it feel like being alone is a crime in the office.
That being said, after weeks of working with Hong Jisoo, he has noticed that the latter is also the same. He doesn’t seem to have developed any friends yet who he goes out to lunch with, and doesn’t engage in talk that goes beyond asking for copies of candidate profiles and asking how to make the printer work again because the paper jammed for the 5th time that day. To be truthful, Jeonghan kind of expected him to be talkative (as expected of newcomers with a lot of questions) and he was already ready to be annoyed but Jisoo proves him wrong by being the most absolute angel of a deskmate.
Something Jeonghan liked about him also was the prompt and sincere good morning he gives him the moment he steps in the office. Jeonghan is always in the office earlier, always having never ending backlogs he needs to work on before the shift actually starts and some things he was not able to finish the night before even after doing overtime work for 5 hours. Jeonghan’s work exhausts him, but the good morning somehow started off as nothing until it has made him feel grounded–-reassured that the day would actually be good because his new coworker of 1 month has been sitting quietly at work and greeting him everyday. It’s like some form of classical conditioning.
Jisoo doesn’t seem to catch on to this, but it’s not like Jeonghan is saying anything anyway. He does try to strike up some conversation with him every now and then–like when Jisoo brought in a cute tiny otter figurine to decorate their bleak cubicles and Jeonghan asked where he got it because he wanted to buy one too. Jisoo tells him it's something he made, because he’s into arts and crafts with a shy smile, and Jeonghan thinks god, that’s endearing before lightly joking about Jisoo making one for him as a commission maybe? And Jisoo laughs, the cutest tiniest laugh ever known to mankind that it barely passes as a chuckle along with a non-committed I’ll try.
Jeonghan is able to work extra efficient that day to the point he was able to leave the office earlier than Jisoo, and then it was his turn to wave him goodbye and he sighs as Jisoo smiles at him to drive home safe along with his lips cornering like the number 3 but horizontally.
Jeonghan dreads lunch.
Among many other things he dreads about their company that prides on the “culture” and the “togetherness” of everyone, it’s mostly lunch that fosters that kind of environment which he isn’t particularly amused with especially.
Their office building has a mid-sized pantry for the employees, meaning it houses at least only 4 long tables which means you’re bound to share and sit with someone beside you during lunch whether you like it or not. Due to this particular reason Jeonghan always takes lunch breaks an hour later or earlier than most people to miss the “rush hour” of employees who usually sit in groups. Some people always tend to have the same idea as him though, so sometimes it would be equally as crowded and while it gives him a chance to overhear gossip to pass the time, trying to suddenly muster up energy for potential co worker interaction already exhausts him.
Sometimes he would be lucky, and Jisoo would be on lunch break at the same time, or at least a couple of minutes later than him. The younger one would give him a small smile of recognition when he enters the room and sees Jeonghan there. Neither of them invite each other to sit beside or in front of the other–and it’s something that doesn’t bother him. He’s thinking that if Jisoo invites him, then he would sit with him, but if not then it’s okay. The angle from where he’s eating by the window and Jisoo sitting with his back facing the microwave and sink 2 tables away is good enough as it is–giving him enough liberty and freedom to watch Jisoo munch on his packed lunch (which always happens to be 2 pieces of sandwich with spread in between) as slow as possible, while he scrolls on his phone. Sometimes he would giggle to himself, as Jeonghan watches–probably due to something he’s watching on his phone. Methodically, after finishing his sandwich (Jeonghan thinks that can’t be healthy and sustainable, he doesn’t even eat any rice or snacks during work hours either) he packs his wrappings and refills his water bottle and tells Jeonghan he’s leaving and going back (even though there’s still an ample amount of time left for his lunch break). Jisoo doesn’t have to do it, but Jeonghan thinks it’s just probably because the younger raven haired is the most polite person on earth and would combust if he doesn’t speak to people in honorifics or proper etiquette for arriving and leaving after lunch.
Sometimes Jeonghan wonders if Jisoo finds it awkward or even notices that he almost spends the entirety of his lunch staring him down, observing his every miniscule movement like he’s doing a research study on him or that like he’s the most fascinating thing in the entire world.
It turns out, Jisoo is really good with this line of work.
He gets succeeding recognitions within their department as one of the top performers, meeting the individual target and overshooting enough until the next quarter and enough to save their asses from getting scolded by management as a team. He doesn’t brag about it like how the other employees in their company would have–just simply thanking those who greet him and smiling before going back to his work. He doesn’t even try to feign an I wouldn’t have done it without the help and support of the team! spiel, much to Jeonghan’s curiosity. He seems to be a humble, simple person, without much attempts on sugarcoating anything or being excessive to the point that the recognition wouldn’t feel as deserved.
Jeonghan feels like he’s never held someone in a high regard like this ever in his life, and that’s saying something.
He gives his fair share of congratulations to Jisoo, and the latter smiles at him (the one that feels genuine always and never leaves, imprinting itself in the recesses of Jeonghan’s mind to the point that when he thinks of it as he straps in the seatbelt of his car it gives him a wash of calmness in him). This time though Jisoo replies, and he says something like You’re also a top performer, so congratulations too Jeonghan-ssi. You’re always working hard– and Jeonghan feels like he has already won the best award that can be offered to any employee in that company.
They go to a company dinner, the first together actually since Jisoo joined the company. Jeonghan usually would lie about something to get out of it, but for some reason (Jisoo) he decides to go for this one. They go to a place that sells good meat and offers a lot of room for all of them to share one long table for a long night of drinking and eating and celebrating. He finds himself sitting across Jisoo, who is politely smiling as usual and nodding, actively listening to the conversation being led by their team manager. Sometimes, every now and then, Jisoo would find himself turning to Jeonghan and making a face in relation to what their coworkers are talking about and Jeonghan tries to stabilize himself before melting in a puddle of goo when the raven haired would nose scrunch at his way or make a really cute frown. It’s like an inside thing between them that nobody in the table seems to notice, and Jeonghan would like to keep it that way thank you very much.
Jeonghan does wonder whether that new thing between them was because of their shared bond of being deskmates, remotely vaguely labeled as coworking friends or is it because of the alcohol they have been drinking the moment they stepped in the restaurant and is clouding any sense of judgment that has been always holding Jisoo back when it comes to their interactions.
The rest of the night is a blur to Jeonghan, but he remembers (he will never forget) the moment that Jisoo brushes his shoulders against his, probably almost bumping but not in a bad way–more of a drunken haze stumble back to Jeonghan when they are in queue for the bathroom. Jeonghan can smell the perfume on the younger male’s even with all the alcohol they drank–almost like a woody scent but also something pinching like the sea salt in the air–like when you’re in the countryside and there’s a forest beside a huge clearing of a beach.
Home– Jisoo smells like home to him.
Nothing progresses between him and Jisoo.
He doesn’t act on anything, and Jisoo doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t even think that Jisoo likes him that way or feels any emotion for him at all, whether it’s good or bad. So he doesn’t act on it, and leaves it be–just like how he would ignore his work until the last minute.
Jeonghan would never admit it but he’s afraid of speaking up–ruining what they have. The tranquility between them, the comfortable silence. He doesn’t want to drive him away and overcomplicate things.
He’s already so certain about himself that it didn’t even need a eureka moment for him to sort out his feelings–none of that dramatic fiction-like overdramatizations of realizing feelings for someone. No particular reasons as to why he would like Jisoo, he just knows that he likes him and that’s enough for Jeonghan who doesn’t like complications.
There are days, that Jeonghan is tempted to do something, anything– like inviting Jisoo to sit beside him during lunch or offer him at least a kimbap (because honestly, the sandwich situation is already alarming at this point) or tell him that it’s fine to leave early and he doesn’t have to stretch his work just so that he gets to leave office late to let the rush hour pass because Jeonghan can just easily drive and drop him off to his apartment if he wants to. Jeonghan is really debating everyday, making arguments with the little Jeonghans of different emotions in his head on whether doing something is better than nothing.
Silence always wins, and so Jeonghan keeps his little peace and courteous good mornings from Jisoo.
It’s been a while since he was able to have a quick smoke with Seungcheol.
The older male had been busy moving around, doing client visits and making sure that all of their deployments are working well and not doing anything delinquent or breaking contract. Seungcheol is good with that–managing people–the way Jeonghan is good at observing Jisoo and doing nothing about it.
They usually stay silent during these times, but it’s been a while since they actually really spent time together like this and the older male has a lot of stories to tell about the clients, the deployed employees, and some personal drama in his life that Jeonghan knows he is venting out because he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing it with the superficial people they work with a couple of floors below.
“–and Mingyu was surprised to see that it was that new guy from your department, Hong Jisoo right?” Seungcheol asks him and he zones back into the conversation as he taps the cigarette, watching the ashes fall down gracefully to the floor.
“What about Jisoo?” he asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Mingyu found him crying the other day–and it’s not like the kind of crying that was subtle you know? Mingyu said it was full-on sobbing. He was standing outside the building entrance hiccuping and voice breaking.”
This…is new to him.
“When was this?”
“Just last Wednesday, if I remember correctly. When it was rainy? Mingyu said he was standing out without any umbrella. He wanted to bring him in and ask him what’s wrong, but Jisoo started walking afterwards and rode the first bus that passed by them still sobbing.”
Jeonghan is baffled, along with intrigued. He doesn’t know.
But then again, how would he know. He never asks Jisoo. Jisoo never speaks. Jisoo never tells. Jeonghan never speaks.
“I don’t think he got scolded at work.” he says, laced with uncertainty and doubt trying to think back as to whether Jisoo actually did get scolded at work recently.
Seungcheol shrugs, already ready to move on to another topic but Jeonghan is still hung up as he takes a long drag. He can only think of how Jisoo probably looked under the rain, alone and sobbing for god’s sake and it builds a new resolve in him, something that he knows he must do at the least.
He bids Seungcheol goodbye after finishing 2 more sticks, and goes down to the convenience store in front of their building. He grabs a cup of pudding, and debates on getting a rice ball or another sandwich but settles on the pudding and banana milk. He makes his way towards back to their bleary cubicle where he sees Jisoo is settled already, table devoid again of any snacks and is occupied instead by a stack of folders and papers.
“Here.” Jeonghan taps him on the back and offers him the plastic bag, and Jisoo opens his eyes curiously at him.
“Thought you might want to have a snack?” he says, and Jisoo smiles at him again (for all the love of good and holy things) and gives him a simple thanks for being generous.
“Hey–” he starts then gets surprised that he did end up saying it but now Jisoo’s attention is back to him again and he tries to think critically if this is the best course of action to go now–damn him and his intrusive thoughts—”um, if you need someone to talk to, or anything–I’m here.” he continues away, hoping he doesn’t sound like a creep to Jisoo.
Jeonghan sees his eyes, he knows it too well for being pretty but right now as he looks at it while talking to him it feels so sad, like an ocean wave before the storm and the sky is dark and the air is extra sharp. It’s a foreboding, dangerous territory, and Jeonghan can’t seem to look away even if he wanted to.
“Thanks, Jeonghan. I appreciate it. Thanks for the snacks too.” Jisoo simply says, and Jeonghan wishes he would speak more, say anything, tell things– but it’s not something he can force onto Jisoo. He would have to wait.
“Don’t you get tired?”
It’s 8:35 PM, 3 hours after 5 pm which should have been Jeonghan’s end of shift since he works a 9-to-5–when Jisoo suddenly leans back on his seat and slides a bit back, just enough so that he can peer at Jeonghan from where he’s sitting letting him know that the question is for him.
“Tired of work?” he inquires back.
“Of everything. This. That. Little things, big things.” Jisoo says in a relaxed, hushed voice even though he has no reason to, they’re the only ones left in the production floor anyway.
“Sometimes. I get tired of people faster than I can think of.” he says, thinking of how majority of his energy on a daily basis is exerted on talking, constantly talking to people who are desperate to get new job opportunities and he finds it exhausting, but it’s something he has to make do and come to terms with.
“I think I’m tired, Jeonghan.” Jisoo says, eyes blankly staring on the portion of the divider that separates their desks from each other, and Jeonghan–he doesn’t know what to say.
He thinks if it's too corny or too cliche to pull Jisoo closer for a hug, or to tell him that everything is going to be fine and life is going to be filled with rainbows and there’s a huge pot of gold by the end of each one.
Jeonghan mulls over the way he says his name too, as if it's begging for reprieve and he’s the one who is holding the guillotine.
“I think it's okay to be tired.” he says carefully, reading the air between him and Jisoo. “Is it painful?”
Jisoo looks at him, deep eyes that go way beyond the trenches of the ocean and Jeonghan has to feign a sharp inhale before he sees him nod twice.
Jeonghan would never think of it for other people–but right now all he wants to do is spare Jisoo from whatever it is that is making him like this. If it was a million daggers stabbing Jisoo, he wanted to pull it out one by one and if the pain could be transferred to him instead he would probably do it.
“Let’s stop working for the day. I can give you a ride home.” he offers, already saving the file he has open and closing tabs as calmly as possible.
Jisoo looks like he’s about to protest something but Jeonghan’s look to him tells that he’s not taking no for an answer.
They go down the building to the basement in silence and Jeonghan unlocks his car door ahead, letting Jisoo sit on the passenger side as he slides on the driver’s side. He pats himself on the back mentally for always making sure the car is clean and presentable, so it doesn’t seem to Jisoo like he’s such a slob.
Jisoo buckles himself in, telling Jeonghan where he lives and he nods because yeah, he knows that area and it’s just close around there to walk but Jeonghan takes the longest route possible to take, to keep Jisoo by his side and their silence as the radio softly plays in between them.
Jisoo must have noticed this, but he doesn’t say anything and fiddles with the hem of the seatbelt looking ahead at the road.
When they arrive at the front of Jisoo’s apartment, it takes them a while before anyone can say anything. Jeonghan knows that Jisoo is waiting, and he knows that the ball is in his court–he could say anything and everything at that moment and it would do things, it would change things. But he wasn’t sure as to which was the right thing to say or do. Nobody taught him a lesson on how to do this in school.
“Jisoo.” he says, after the longest silence in the history of mankind.
It’s going to be fine.
It’s okay. Things will be fine.
This is just for today.
Tomorrow will be different.
I want to be with you.
Let me be with you.
Please hold on a bit more.
I like you.
No.
I love you.
“Good night, Jisoo.” he ends up saying.
“Good night Jeonghan, thanks for the ride.” Jisoo says, and as he unbuckles his seatbelt Jeonghan internally mildly panics over thinking if he should have said more but it’s as if Jisoo is a messiah and can read minds–he faces him one more time before he opens the door.
“I’ll go now.” he says, and there is just something about it that makes it so final that it takes every ounce of Jeonghan to stop him from exiting the car. If they can just be there in that moment forever, just the two of them in their borrowed peace and silence.
Jisoo exits the car and Jeonghan waits until he sees Jisoo enter the gate, and he drives off pretending he isn’t looking at the side mirror in the hopes of seeing Jisoo watching him speed away.
In another timeline, Jeonghan would have told him he loved him, and it would have been an awkward affair between them at first but it probably would have blossomed into something.
But this wasn’t that, and it’s something Jeonghan would carry with him.
Jisoo is gone shortly after that.
He didn’t die, or at least Jeonghan hoped that he didn’t.
He just stopped going to work after, and even with the multiple return to work orders he doesn’t show up nor gives an explanation for his absence. There’s no resignation letter, there’s no notice, nothing left in his cubicle from the night before that would imply he’s planning on just deciding he didn’t exist anymore.
But he did, in Jeonghan’s memories and as proven by the tiny sticky notes on the cubicle wall reminding him of daily tasks and pending items that he left behind and Jisoo’s windbreaker that he keeps draped on his office chair in case it gets extra drafty since they sit near the air conditioning vents.
Even the tiny handmade otter figurine still sits there, abandoned. Another proof of Hong Jisoo.
Jeonghan doesn’t try showing up to his apartment even though he knows where it is. He’s afraid of getting confirmations. He doesn’t have his number, so it’s not like he can call him. If he does, and Jisoo answers–what would he say?
But like any other corporation, everything is a number–so it doesn’t take long until he notices that they’re replacing Jisoo’s spot and getting someone new to work beside him in the incoming week.
Everyone has already moved on.
He goes to work one Thursday and he finds them cleaning up Jisoo’s table. He’s suddenly filled with adrenaline, a bit of anger even–as if the company needed to ask permission from him first before doing it. He did try to keep it untouched as much as possible.
He greets the worker hurriedly and asks her if he can sift through the stuff first since there might be some work stuff that he needs to keep (a lie) but the lady seems to buy it.
He rolls his sleeves and starts sifting through the already half filled box.
There’s papers, documents related to work that he knows will be filed somewhere and he doesn’t want that, but he still digs around, looking for scraps of Jisoo that he can keep for himself.
The otter and the jacket stayed with him.
He ends up watching as the cleaning lady placed the rest of Jisoo’s items neatly in the box, and gives a satisfied hum as she sees the clean and empty workspace.
When she leaves, Jeonghan finds himself sighing this early in the morning as he places the otter neatly on his desk, placing it so that’s slightly above the stack of papers he always has on his tray and so that it watches over him, the same way it probably watched Jisoo everyday when he still worked there.
The jacket on his desk still smelled like the same Jisoo he stood with in the restaurant months ago, and Jeonghan folds it neatly before putting it inside his pedestal.