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Summary
“I’m sorry.” Jisung shakes his head. “How did you know I was looking for a job?”
“Because you told me,” his neighbour says matter-of-factly, all brightness that refuses to dim. “The other night, in this very hallway. You said you needed to start looking for a job soon, and did I know of anything going at the moment, and could you work with me, even, since I look like I ‘have my shit together’.”
“Oh, fuck.” Jisung’s heart sputters in his chest like a worn-out machine. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember . . . any of that. I was drunk.”
Jisung’s neighbour smiles. It’s patient, knowing, small. “Yeah, I got that,” he says.
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Or, Han Jisung comes to of the end of a six-month-long self-destructive drinking spree wanting to get sober. His neighbour, Lee Minho, offers him a shoulder to lean on.